


And All That Jazz

by MrsMoosie



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe, Aziraphale is Billy Flynn, Chicago - Movie, Crowley is Velma Kelly/Roxie Hart, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Sort of Reverse Omens, heavily based on the movie, way later though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:35:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24683941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsMoosie/pseuds/MrsMoosie
Summary: 1920’s Chicago.Anthony J. Crowley is being tried for a double murder... But with the help of his incredible imagination of singing and dancing, but mainly of his caring attorney he might just get away with murder.Updates daily! 💜
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 45





	1. Prologue: All That Jazz

**Author's Note:**

> Oh hello lovies!
> 
> So there was no beta with this, any mistakes and errors are mine and mine alone.
> 
> That being said, I was drowning in WhiteleyFoster’s amazing 1920’s era Jazz Baby and found Chicago on one day and agh. Here I am, losing my damn mind. Dancing around the house like Bob Fosse. Or trying to! 
> 
> Anyway. Lots of implied things and nothing graphic. If you’re here for the smut you have a long wait, sorry doll face. 😉
> 
> Enjoy!

Twelve steps is what it took Anthony Crowley to get to center stage of the Eden Club. He was about to enter the darkness, the audience enraptured by the impending performance. It was silent, the only thing he could hear was breathing. Was it his own breath? The dancers were waiting for him, surrounding the small “X” on the ground marking his spot. 

Twelve steps.

“You’re on, Mr, Crowley. Good luck, you’re going to kill it!“

“ _ Don’t _ say that.” Crowley snapped, glaring at the stage hand.

Twelve bloody steps.

He began.

His shoes clacked against the marley flooring, demanding respect and silence from the audience. They were black heels, and had been broken-in plenty of times over the past year of touring the world. He wore black trousers and a black suit jacket. There was a thin ribbon wrapped around his neck, and his eyes were painted with dark eyeshadow and liner. His hands were sweating, trembling, holding a black cane with a silver snake handle. There was electricity in the air- he could feel it vibrating off of the audience. He didn’t even hear the clink of a glass.

Six steps left.

He saw the guys and gals smiling excitedly, their shimmering costumes couldn’t hide the fact they too were on the stage. What little light in the club there was reflected off the sequins and sparkles, making it look like stars in the darkness.

Three steps.

Two.

One.

He took center stage and faced away from the audience. Taking in a deep breath. He set the cane in his left hand and stretched his arm out, leaning into it. His right leg crossed over his left, his hip popping out slightly. His head turned to the right away from his cane, tilted down. His right hand lifted to tilt his hat down over his eyes. He pinched it between his thumb and pointer, the other three fingers sticking up in the air.

He was ready. He was in position. 

Go.

Two spotlights snapped into life. A slightly confused, but thunderous applause sounded before he even started. One spotlight was empty. The dancers surrounding him were silent, still in the dark, hidden from view. They knew better. They’d done this as a one-dancer act before, and quickly switched gears. Even if something went wrong, no one was here to see  _ them _ . They wanted Crowley.

There was sudden silence after the applause. The announcer came on.

“And now, for your viewing pleasure, The Eden Club proudly presents a duo like you’ve never seen before!”

Before anyone could question the announcer, the music began. The dancers began simple, their hands coming to frame Crowley in the spotlight.

One, Snap. Two, Snap. Three, Snap. Four, Snap.

“C’mon, babe, why don’t we paint the town?”

Crowley took his hand off his hat and turned toward his cane, ass sticking out. He smirked at the audience seductively. 

“And all that  _ Jazz. _ ”

His voice thundered through the club, reverberating off the walls and through the seats. It seeped into the very souls of those watching, absorbed into their skin and minds. The sheer power behind it carried into the lobby.

He stood and started to walk sideways toward the audience. His hips rolled along with his steps, his cane under an arm, the other hand holding his hat.

“I’m gonna rouge my knees,

And roll my stockings down.”

He stopped, legs spread and playfully gasped as his background dancers ripped his clothes off. It revealed his real costume. A dress that shook with every movement, high waisted to show off those long legs. Black hose led down to high heeled dance shoes. His normally curled hair was cut into a straight short bob, angled down to the front. He had two thick black leather bracelets wrapped around his wrists. He got more than a few cat calls from the audience.

“And all that  _ Jazz.”  _ He winked.

He was lifted up and carried across the stage to the right, where he saw blonde curls. He caught blue eyes in the front row, and Crowley winked.

“Start the car, I know a whoopee spot.

Where the gin is cold-“

He was laid out on the piano, cane gone. He stroked the pianist's cheek, “and the piano is  _ hot.”  _ He winked. 

He sat up on his knees slowly, hands tracing up his thighs up his chest, eyes closing softly. 

“It’s just a noisy hall, 

Where there’s a nightly brawl.”

He threw his hat at the blonde. 

“And all.” 

He sat back, smacking his thighs. 

“That.”

His hands smacked the piano, bringing him to all fours.

“Jaaaaazz…” 

The music picked up slightly as he thrust his ass into the air, crawling forward like a predatory cat. He rolled off the piano, being caught by a dancer before being tossed to the side, spinning back to center and sandwiched between two other dancers. 

His dance went on. His hips swiveled, thrust and rolled. His hands snapped and flexed, his legs kicked and he twirled. He was fluid, he was perfection. The background dancers were moving right along with him, step by step, perfectly synchronized. You’d never know it was supposed to be a duo.

By the end there was thunderous applause. Crowley stepped forward, sweating and breathing heavily he took a bow, waving out into the crowd. He glanced at the blonde in the front row and gave a playful wink before stepping back.

Suddenly the lights all came on in the club and Crowley knew it was the end for him.

“Anthony J. Crowley! You’re under arrest!” The boisterous voice of the police sounded. Crowley didn’t move, he stayed compliant and obedient. The police came up the stage and received their own cat calls before Crowley was put in cuffs. 

“Don’t you want to buy me a drink first, officer?” He joked, getting a laugh from the audience.

“You’re wanted for a double murder. I wouldn’t buy you a drink if it was free.” The detective snapped, twisting his arm slightly. Crowley gasped and struggled.

“I didn’t- what do you mean  _ double murder _ ?!” 

He saw the blonde from the corner of his eye, eyes tracing up and down Crowley’s body as he was dragged away.

Men. Typical.

This  _ was _ 1920’s Chicago… What do you expect?


	2. My Funny Hunny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I’m gonna just post a chapter a day, they’re kinda short compared to my other work I’m posting weekly.
> 
> Anywho! Here be some drama, and Gabe... And Bea! 👀

Crowley found himself back at his apartment, facing his husband. He was allowed to throw on a robe when they arrived. How kind. He was still shivering, and his teeth chattering. His husband, Gabriel, was sitting on the edge of their sofa being investigated by the same idiot detective that dragged him from the club. They’d be talking about this night in the papers tomorrow for sure. Crowley was not thrilled. If it was one thing he despised more than anything it was the press. Unfortunately, he was in the wrong job to hate the press. 

At the moment, he couldn’t get Gabe’s annoying voice out of his ear though.

“He wouldn’t hurt a fly! I was at work while he was at rehearsals all day. He came home to change and… and there were these burglars! Came storming in! I walked in and- I mean a man has to defend his home, right? I had to protect him, he’s my  _ husband _ . So I shot them!”

“ _ You _ shot them. In defense?” The detective questioned, eyebrow raised. Gabriel nodded. 

“Yes. Defense. Defending my darling husband.”

Crowley wanted to throw up. This idiot… Gabriel loved him so much, he was blind to what was really going on. To the truth in front of him. Literally. On the floor, in front of him, under a sheet. It wasn’t like they talked anymore, not like he really cared. When the officer escorted them in, he managed to arrange a few minutes to tend to Crowley who was shaking and distraught. Gabriel assumes it was because he was forcibly dragged away from the stage. Crowley explained to him what he should say. There was a break in, Gabriel came home and defended him. Gabriel agreed, no questions asked.

But… Lord knows he ain’t got the smarts…

“These two are the burglars?” The detective asked, pulling the sheet away from their faces.

Crowley’s heart dropped. Shit, shit, shit.

“Uh… Yeah that’s… wait… That’s…”

“Name of deceased… Fred Casely and Richard Kelly.”

“No… No that’s not possible- Crowley that’s your… Rich is from the show, your partner and Fred- Fred sold us our new furniture, we met him a month or so ago. He gave us a great discount! Said we looked like a handsome couple…  _ Crowley  _ what the fuck _?! _ ”

Crowley froze and wrapped the robe tighter around himself, looking away. He gave up… fuck them all, assume what you want you…  _ wanker. _

“You… You were  _ fucking _ them?! I’m at the office all day busting my ass and you’re here- you  _ whore _ ! He just came in not ten minutes ago and told me to say I killed them, said I’d get off scot free! And now… Now you’re telling me… You… You  _ whore! _ ”

“Fucking  _ idiot _ Gabe, you can’t keep one story straight to defend your husband?” Crowley yelled, tears falling down his cheeks. His body shook in anger and fear. He wasn’t a whore… He was so far from it. Gabriel just wouldn’t listen to his side of the story.

“Sir, come with us, you’re under arrest.”

Crowley growled and spat at Gabriel, struggling against the detective’s arms.

“Fuck you, Crowley!” Gabe shouted, wiping his face.

“Fuck  _ you _ , you… you shit head!”

Crowley would regret this later- only because he could have done much better.

The police shoved Crowley into the back of the paddy wagon and he yelled at them. He stumbled as they started to move and sat down finally. He was too angry to cry, too stressed and distraught to feel anything. Idiot husband. Idiot Fred. Idiot Rich. The men in this town… All idiots! He was better off back in England. At least they were  _ proper _ idiots over there. 

Crowley was brought to the Cook County Jail. Proper institution for the likes of him, alleged murderer and all. He entered and was immediately put through the ringer. Fingerprinting- left hand first, now right. Mug shots- front and back, side to side. Again, but this time naked. He was yelled at, pushed around. Pick up your clothes, faster, move along, get down the hall. Orientation time. Wait here.

Crowley wore the grey prison uniform he’d been handed, and held his one change of clothes and blanket close. He looked around at the others in the room with him. Theft most likely, minor assault charges, some bigger men that were probably in here for beating their significant others. Bunch of jackass idiots. 

Crowley had something though… That none of the other people in that waiting room had. He had a very vivid imagination. Suddenly, right before his eyes they were the audience, and the wall before them was the stage… A spotlight came on and pointed at the door- no… the red curtain wings.

_ Gentleman… Please put your hands together and welcome the keeper of the keys… The count of the clink, the leader of the monsters and the damned… Lord of the Flies, Bealz! _

That fantasy ended quite abruptly.

In walked a short, but unforgiving looking individual. They had a suit jacket on, hair pulled back into a bun. There was still quite a bit of hair hanging down the side of their face, but they didn’t seem to care. Keys jingled from their pants and they stopped, hands behind their back. They  _ smiled _ . Bealz started walking down the rows of new inmates, intimidating though… small.

“Gentleman. I’m not here to be your friend. I’m here to make your life a living hell. Ask any of my guards- you put one toe out of line, it will be broken before you realize it. Am I clear? You are all flies to me… And the more annoying you become, the harder I will crush you…”

Bealz stopped suddenly, standing before Crowley and leaning down so they were face to face.

“Well, well… You must be Mr. Crowley.”

Crowley felt a shiver run up his spine and he nodded dumbly, “Yes…”

“Lucky you… You’re coming with me.” They stood and turned, “Dismissed! Get a move on!”

“With… you?” Crowley said, hesitant. Beelz smiled and nodded, moving a hand as if to say, ‘Please, after you sir.’ Crowley stood and started walking with them, clutching his clothes tightly.

“See… You will be kept with my best little monsters.” They said, “This is what we call Murderers Row. There aren’t too many of you so I keep you to myself.”

“Hey Bea.” One man said, sticking a hand out. Bealz paused.

“Ligur…” Beelz smirked and took his hand, slipping a pack of cigarettes into it in exchange for a wad of cash. 

“Murderer’s Row…” Crowley frowned, “I’m not… I didn’t do it though.”

“Mmm… That’s what all my monsters tell me. Now, you’ll be in here. I’m here to take care of you, Anthony.”

“Just… Just Crowley is fine… Why do you call well… this block monsters?”

“Not all monsters are killers,  _ Anthony _ .” Bealz started, “See… We get to decide on our own what our monsters are. Is it something we can bury under our beds for years? Shove into a closet? Or perhaps it’s something we have to live with for the rest of our lives. Being in this cell block- on murderer’s row… This is a monster you will live with the rest of your life. It’s up to you, Anthony, to decide how to handle it. You are all  _ my  _ monsters while you are here. I’d rather not see you shoved into a coffin and wheeled into a ditch somewhere.” Bealz stared at him a moment and turned, walking out of the cell and shutting the door. Crowley stiffened, finally realizing he was in his cell as the door slammed shut. Tears came into his eyes.

“Can… Can I maybe get another blanket, Bea? It’s… It’s just kinda cold…”

“I’ll take care of you,  _ Anthony _ , if you take care of  _ me  _ first.” They stepped away and yelled, “Lights out, Monsters!”

Crowley hugged his clothing and shivered. It was going to be a very long night…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments always welcome. 
> 
> Find me on IG as @mrsmoosie35 👀


	3. Cell Block Tango

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley meets the other merry murderers on Murderer’s Row and realizes he needs help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Mentions of rape and self harm. 
> 
> Some background into what happened.

Crowley fell asleep crying that night. He was cold, tired, emotionally drained, and frightened. He suddenly woke up in the middle of the night on a stage. He shielded his eyes from the blinding light and stood, walking forward. He found himself a chair and sitting. He was watching a show. Suddenly, red lights came on and silhouettes appeared.

There were six of these merry murderers.

Ligur.  _ Shotgun  _ to his drunk and abusive husband’s head.

Hastur. His boyfriend- who had  _ six _ spouses.... Man couldn’t handle his  _ arsenic _ .

Michael. Husband came in, drunk and attacked them- then ran into his  _ knife  _ ten times. 

Sandalphon. Fighting his appeal again. He worked with his neighbor to  _ decapite  _ his wife.

Uriel. Caught his wife doing the ‘Spread Eagle’ with his brother… They met his  _ pistol _ . 

Raven.  _ Slit the throat _ of his cheating boyfriend… and the woman he was ‘painting’.

They all told their story. How their significant others beat them, cheated on them, walked all over them. How they were defending themselves, or they blacked out, they don’t remember what happened. 

The ones they killed all had one thing in common. They had it coming.

If you had been there, if you had seen it. You would have done the same.

Shotgun. Arsenic. Knife. Decapitation. Pistol. Slit throat.

They didn’t do it… But if they’d done it. How could you tell them that they were wrong?

Crowley woke up with a gasp, shivering in the cold. He huddled into the thin blanket he was given and felt a tear in his eye. This was it… This is how it was going to end for him… Dying of hypothermia in a jail cell for murdering those… those bastards.

Why  _ did _ he do it? It would most likely be because… Because…

Crowley choked out a sob and hugged himself, shaking violently. It really was self defense. He couldn’t take it anymore. The furniture man found out Gabe’s work schedule after they’d bought a couch from him. Small talk was a dangerous thing. It started right after. It was frightening. The first time, Crowley opened the door and Fred barged in, taking advantage of him, taking what he wanted and leaving Crowley broken, sobbing on the bed. This happened several times a week, for three weeks. He couldn’t stand to look at Gabe. Crowley would stay away from him and hardly let Gabe touch him. When he did, it was innocent enough but it was scalding fire on his skin that burned right through. He wanted to vomit, he couldn’t stand to look at himself. He couldn’t… couldn’t  _ kill _ himself- no… 

He decided to tell someone… Someone he thought he trusted. His dance partner, Rich. They weren’t  _ best  _ friends to begin with, but they spent enough time together he seemed trustworthy. Telling him was the worst mistake of his life, though.

Turns out, Fred and Rich knew one another very well, as this was a regular thing that they did together. The fourth week they started coming together. They’d take turns using Crowley, roughing him up, taking what they wanted from his body before leaving him. They watched one another, or used him at the same time. They’d leave him, broken and shattered, a ruined mess. Crowley would wait until he heard the doors of the cars close outside before running to the bathroom. He’d get violently ill, sit under scalding hot water and claw at his skin to come off. He’d scream and cry. Crowley couldn’t do it… It was him or them… No one else needed to be put through this- he wouldn’t let them destroy him just to find someone else to rape.

Crowley looked down at his wrists and rubbed over the skin, sobbing. He’d tried… That first day the two of them came, he tried. He’d just finished cutting his wrists in the bathroom, barely deep enough to bleed out, when Gabriel caught him. Thankfully he grabbed towels and stopped the bleeding. Crowley wanted to explain but… Gabriel began  _ scolding  _ him, told he needed Jesus and God and all the Apostles and… That’s when Crowley knew. He needed to end this mess, take it into his own hands. Get rid of the two that assaulted him, get away from Gabriel. These men were arsenic.

Gabriel was sweet and all but… That man loved God more than he loved Crowley. Hell, he loved everything more than Crowley sometimes, and Crowley was  _ not _ alright with that relationship. He really should have just gone and become a priest like his mom wanted him to. 

So after Gabriel left for work, Crowley found the pistol Gabriel kept sitting on the table. He sat in a chair by the door, waiting, trembling, tears falling down his face. He heard the car door outside, and the chatter walking into the apartment building. He felt his hands shaking, his tears falling, unable to control himself. When the door finally opened, Crowley wasted no time and shot them. Three bullets each, and their bodies fell. He stuffed the gun in an old scarf and took off, heading for the club. He had a show to do, afterall.

In jail now, Crowley lay and face the cement wall, listening to himself breathe. It was going to be hard… He wasn’t the only one in this jail going through this, but… He was a victim, not a murderer. He needed help. He needed an ally. He needed to get out- defense was the best offense or something like that, right? Who’d believe him though? He had no friends, no witnesses… But he did have one life line. It was time to scratch a back.

The next morning he sat on the cold cement floor and stretched himself out, as all good dancers do before a show. This was going to be quite a show, after all. He needed help, friends, someone to get him out and away from the hangman’s knot. He was not going down without a fight.

“Rise and shine, monsters!” Bealz’s voice echoed through the block. Crowley looked up and reached to push his toes down, giving them a proper crack before he stood.

“Ah… Anthony. I hope you slept well?”

“I need a word um… Bea.” He said, walking closer to the bars.

“Mm? And what word would that be?”

“I need-” Crowley looked to his left and saw a prisoner already out, leaning on the rails, “I need a private word?”

“Mm… That’s going to cost you. See… Everything you do causes me some sort of inconvenience. So I charge what I like to call a convenience fee. You give me money, and it becomes convenient to speak with you, or have you on my phone. See? You do get one free phone call, Anthony. After that… you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.”

“How do I get money?”

“One phone call. Choose wisely…” Bealz smiled and walked away, slamming their baton onto the railing and laughing. Crowley cringed and leaned against the bar. He needed help. Unfortunately… He needed Gabe.

“Bealz- wait… I know who I’d like to call.” He sighed, defeated. Bealz paused and turned, nodding their head to the side.

“C’mon then. Let’s hope they answer.”

Crowley sat in Bealz’s office and stared at the phone as if it would bite. He looked up at them and swallowed hard, trembling as he took the receiver up and started to dial. Gabe’s office number… He  _ always  _ answered.

“A.Z. Fell and Associates, this is Gabriel. How may I assist you?”

Crowley felt the breath leave him and he nearly cried.

“Gabriel! Gabe thank goodness… It’s Crowley… It’s Anthony please don’t hang up!”

“What the- Crowley? What do you- How did you- Are you alright? Are they feeding you? Can I get you anything? I’m working so hard to try and help- What can I do?”

“Yes! Yes Gabe… I need a lawyer, I need money to buy food and… stuff here, they don’t give anything to you.” Crowley looked up and winked at Bealz, getting a smirk in return, “But… Don’t you work for a lawyer?”

“Yes! I’m going to meet with him today about your case… He’s  _ very _ good, his success rate is nearly perfect, gets everyone he meets with off!”

Crowley sighed happily. His dummy hubby was good for one thing, anyway.

“Good! Just… Make sure you bring me the money though. I need it… Or I can’t eat.”

“Are you praying?” Gabe asked. Crowley smacked his forehead and sighed.

“Yes, praying, fine. Just… Money. Lawyer… Please.”

Crowley spoke a little bit longer before Bealz started giving him dirty looks. He hung up and sat back, running his hands through his hair. He gave a small smile and opened his eyes. He just realized Bealz was there. Of course they were, it was their office.

“Wanna… talk about it?”

“What do you know about A.Z. Fell?”


	4. All I Care About is Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we finally meet with our attorney!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Mention of Non-Con. Some anxiety and panic from unwanted advances.

“A.Z. Fell? He’s only the most sought after attorney in Chicago… All of Murderer’s Row would kill for him. Well… You get it.” Bealz smirked at their joke, shrugging, “Why…”

“I have an in… Looks like… That’s who my husband works for… Says he’s a swell guy, they call him the silver tongued prince of the courtroom. He’s a very humble, loving man.”

“Yeah… Humble.” Bealz rolled their eyes, “When’s hubby coming with your money now?”

“Oh… I didn’t even ask…”

“Well… You can go to work then. I’ll show you where your job is.”

Crowley stood and walked out of the office with Bealz, looking around as they went. They walked past cells with men playing cards, using the bathroom… But one- one was jerking off, and Crowley caught his eye just as he finished. The man winked and made a kissing face towards him. Crowley winced and looked away uncomfortably, holding his arms around himself.

“What?” Bealz asked, noticing his change in demeanor.

“N- Nothing… Nothing let’s just go.” He pushed, moving them along.

“Crowley.” Bealz stopped him, standing in front of him. They really were small, but so terrifying, “You have to tell me. I’m really not here to get you hurt, or make you suffer. You’re going to do that plenty just being around these other idiots. I’ve seen your shows, I know who you are. You have to tell me what just happened?”

“The two guys I shot… One was in my act… They um…” Crowley felt a tear come to his eye and he wiped it away, “Fuck, Bea…”

“Rape?” Bea asked, eyebrow raising. Crowley nodded, crossing his arms tighter around himself.

“Can we just go..”

“Yeah… Yeah we can.” Bea nodded. They stepped aside slightly and walked next to Crowley. They took a glance back and noticed the cell that bothered him, making a mental note to make that man’s life a living hell. If there was one thing Bealz would not allow in their prison, or anywhere on this forsaken land, it was taking advantage of someone like that. 

Meanwhile, across town at a huge marble building, Gabriel was sitting in a chair, waiting outside of Mr. A.Z. Fell’s office. He had a very large door, and even the secretary’s desk was large. He sat up straight and held his hands on his legs, gripping his trousers and nearly ripping a hole in them. Suddenly the door opened. An elderly woman walked out, holding stacks of paperwork… And there he stood.

He wore a light blue shirt with a dark blue bowtie, and the most expensive suit Gabriel had ever seen in brown pinstripes. He didn’t even know you could have a brown pinstripe suit! He was very handsome. Light blonde hair was parted to the side. Bright blue eyes that sparkled when he smiled. Wrinkles in the corners of his eyes were charming, showing his age slightly. He had a solid gold pocket watch in one hand, and a solid gold ring on his pinkie finger that disappeared as he stuffed the watch away.

“Ah… Mr. Archer, right on schedule. Please do come in.”

Gabriel froze. He was  _ British _ . Crowley was British! Maybe they knew each other.

Gabriel stood and walked into the office, looking around as Mr. Fell shut the door. Bookshelves lined the walls, overflowing with books and binders, papers and novels. There were huge, floor to ceiling windows behind his large mahogany desk and a comfortable plush chair behind it. Next to the desk was a tray of beverages and crystal glasses. The other side boasted several large brown leather sofas and chairs surrounding a table for more intimate meetings. Gabriel walked toward the desk and looked at the chairs for the visitors' side, noticing they were just the same brown leather as the rest of the furniture. His office chair wasn’t even  _ close _ to this nice!

“Please, take a seat. Can I offer you something to drink? Brandy, whisky?”

“No sir… No that… That would be illegal, prohibition…”

“Ah- yes well… Pardon me if I’m a bit out of um… touch with that. Not my area of expertise?” Mr. Fell chuckled. Gabriel smiled back, dense to the fact he was sitting in front of a  _ lawyer _ , and prohibition was a  _ law _ . “Water then?”

“No thank you, really sir. I need to discuss a personal matter with you, if I can.”

“Yes, of course.” Mr. Fell poured himself a small glass of amber liquid and sat at his desk, leaning back slightly, “What can I help you with, Mr. Archer?” The leather creaked slightly under his weight and he sighed happily.

“My… My husband is in prison. It’s a very embarrassing thing to speak of, and I’ve been praying for his soul every moment I get, sir! See, he’s being charged with…” Gabriel lowered his voice to a whisper, “ _ Murder _ , sir.  _ Double murder. _ ”

“Oh my… I’m very sorry to hear it.” Mr. Fell stated, considering his drink a moment.

“I’m hoping… You have such a reputation as an attorney and I was hoping I could… Maybe if you could help me? I mean… Help him?” Gabriel found his hands playing with his pants, finding pieces of lint and other such oddities he could pick at. They weren’t expensive and sharp like Mr. Fell but… He was also just a clerk.

“Ah…” Mr. Fell sat up and took his drink, swirling it around, “See, here is the problem with this, Mr. Arch. I have a $5,000 fee that I require up front. Do you have that kind of money?”

“I- I don’t right now… I could find some money… I have our savings- see we were trying to buy a house… Crowley may have had some laying around the apartment, then there’s our-”

“Wait- did you say Crowley?” Mr. Fell interrupted, “Anthony… Crowley?”

Gabriel nodded, “Yes sir… He never did take my name as God intended-”

“I was there when he was arrested!” Mr. Fell interrupted, “That club when he was... Oh I’m so sorry, that was quite rude of me. Please, you were saying?”

“It’s fine, Mr. Fell. I’m just hoping I could help him is all.” Gabriel stood and pushed in his chair, “I’m sorry if I’ve wasted your time. Good day.” He started on his way out, defeated.

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t take the case… Get me the money you can gather. I will meet with your husband straight away.” Mr. Fell swirled his glass around and gulped his drink down, standing up, “Where is he being held?”

“C- Cooks…”

Mr. Fell pressed a button on his desk, “Cancel my appointments, Betty… I’m taking the afternoon to meet a new client.”

“Oh… Oh thank you Mr. Fell! I’ll pray for you-”

“Ah… Certainly unnecessary, thank you. Now back to work Mr. Archer. I have a client to meet.”

Mr. Fell slipped on his brown mink lined coat. He took his fedora and placed it over his curls. He looked at the coat rack, eyeing a second black hat with sequins and rhinestones on it. He plucked it up and held it in one hand. He then leaned down and grabbed his briefcase as he walked out. He made his way down his private elevator and out the front door, getting into the backseat of his Bentley. He told the driver where to go and leaned back, looking out the window.

He’d been watching Crowley at that club for quite some time, but always stuck toward the back rows. He didn’t like the attention, he would rather hide in the smoke and the shadows. It was private, and would give him a chance to catalogue his thoughts from the day away and start storing new ones. Especially of red curls and golden eyes, long sexy legs… He had to focus now- He had to work on getting him off.

No… setting him free. None of that.

Mr. Fell’s driver brought him to the front of the prison and helped him into the doors. 

“Aziraphale!” Bealz greeted him, several hours after Crowley’s phone call. They reached a hand out. Mr. Fell- Aziraphale- smiled and took their hand, walking as they shook.

“Ah, Bea. A… not very lovely pleasure to see you. Don’t you people clean here? Spruce it up at all? It smells like… horse manure.”

“Well it’s a prison so… no.” Bealz rolled their eyes and walked, “Here for Crowley then? Didn’t even last a day without you coming by.”

“You know I can’t let double homicides go free.” Aziraphale winked. Bealz chuckled and walked with him to the cell block. Immediately, there were calls and yells.

“Mr. Fell! Take my case!”

“Not guilty!”

“My case- are you still on my case?”

“Mr. Fell!”

Crowley was in his cell, looking over at the doors, head tilting. There was a lot of ruckus happening, which was unusual he supposed. Day two- he’d never heard such a frenzie. He leaned his head back and heard footsteps coming closer. His head tilted to the side, and there was Bealz.

“Mr. Crowley you have a visitor.”

“Gabriel?”

“Mm no… Much better.” Bealz smirked. She moved aside, out of sight. Crowley tilted his head and there he was, stepping up to the bars. Blonde hair covered by a brown fedora, blue piercing eyes. Crowley gave him a once over. His heart skipped a beat, his breath hitched. He was easily the most handsome thing Crowley had ever seen. He wore a hat but Crowley noticed his hands holding a very familiar, very glittery, black hat...

“You… I know you. From… From the club...”

“Mr. Crowley! Seems you remember me?”

“The show… The show when I was arrested, I saw you in the front row.”

“Mm yes, I suppose you did throw this hat at me. Seemed a pity not to return it to it’s rightful owner, see.” 

“Who are you?”

“I am A.Z. Fell, Mr. Archer’s boss. You may call me Aziraphale. I’m officially your attorney.” Aziraphale smiled. He stepped to the side, standing in the open doorway of Crowley’s cell. Aziraphale was watching him, studying his movements, his face, his breathing pattern… 

“You… You were looking me over when the cops took me.”

“Can you blame me? You looked wonderful.” Aziraphale smiled. Crowley shuddered and wrinkled his nose, turning away. His stomach flipped. He wished Bealz was still here, of all people, to keep him safe. Crowley knew he knew he was good looking. He hated attention like this though. On stage was completely different- he had others with him, he was safe. Off stage and alone… There was no one to hear him scream.

“So what do you want.”

“As I said I am your attorney. I’m taking your case. Gabriel said you needed money while in here as well…” He paused and reached into his jacket, pulling out a small stack of cash. He held it out toward Crowley.

“What’s that?”

“Money… For you while you’re in here? Oh dear have I said something wrong?”

“You’re… You’re from England.” Crowley pointed out. Aziraphale smiled.

“Yes… As are you I see?”

“It’s been a long time.”

“Me too…” Aziraphale sighed, placing the money on his bed and moving himsel back against the wall opposite Crowley, “Now… We do have quite a bit of work to do. Reinventing your image, getting the people to fall in love with you. Shouldn’t be too hard, you seem a wonderful man as it is.”

Crowley felt that wave of nausea again. He was going to have to meet with this man, alone, and discuss his personal affairs? He looked at the stack of money on his bed and back to his lawyer.

“I don’t want to change who I am though.”

“No one does, Dove.” Aziraphale smiled, “It’s all part of the act.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments always welcome.
> 
> Find me on IG as @mrsmoosie35 👀


	5. Meet the Press

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did love this part in the movie but... That’s hard to stick to. So behold! My stuff. 🤣

Crowley sat with Mr. Fell in the secluded attorney-client meeting room several days a week for three weeks. Crowley requested that the door stay open for his own comfort at first, to which Aziraphale happily obliged. They started by getting to know one another, to make the conversation more comfortable. 

Aziraphale discussed himself first, breaking the ice. He came to the United States nearly fifteen years ago at age 17. He had been living in London’s Soho district upstairs from a bookshop. When the owner decided to sell, he found the next boat leaving and hopped aboard with the other immigrants. He was single, educated, and English in a city of criminals. Aziraphale, being smart, finished his studies and quickly became the top rated Lawyer in Chicago- no, in all of Illinois. He was 32 now, single and never married. He let slip he hadn’t had a special someone in years.

Crowley came over ten years ago when he was 15. He met Gabriel and fell in love right away. He finished highschool and married Gabriel, right before his parents died in a car crash. He was stuck being married to Gabriel for the past seven years. He had fallen quickly out of love, realizing Gabriel loved religion and his work much more than well… anything. Crowley’s parents didn’t have money or possessions, so he was forced to lean on Gabe and his income. That’s what had led him to dancing, and the clubs. He was always good at it, and Chicago seemed to be the place for it.

The harder conversations came next. That’s when Crowley asked the door to be shut.

Crowley recounted his attacks. When did it start, how many times, when did the second man come. What did they do to you? Where was the gun?

One hour later, Crowley was sobbing into Aziraphale’s handkerchief. He felt his heart beat for the first time in ages for this man… He’d been through more than any case he’d ever taken- and that was saying something. He moved Crowley to sit up and handed him a handkerchief.

“Anthony… Now I understand-”

“Crowley.” He corrected.

“Well, I like to call you Anthony… It’s softer. It um… it makes for a more positive image of yourself.” Aziraphale smiled. His hands made a sort of…  _ rainbow _ in the air, as if to show him the big picture.

“I don’t  _ want _ to be called Anthony.”

“Then perhaps I don’t  _ want  _ to be your attorney?”

Crowley’s mouth opened and shut rather quickly. He sat back and brought his feet up on the chair, hugging his knees to his chest, defeated.

“Fine… Whatever.”

“Now as I was saying Anthony. I understand your story of what happened… But see shooting two unarmed men in self defense with your husband’s pistol? We may need to… expand on the truth as we lawyers call it.”

“Expand…?”

“Yes, now listen here… We’re going to have a press conference about your case in two days and I need you to know every fact.”

“I  _ know _ every fact.”

Aziraphale smiled and reached into his briefcase, finding a portfolio and a pen. He opened the binder to a blank page and started to jot down information, discussing it and explaining to Crowley as he went. Crowley felt his mind going a million miles an hour. He was supposed to act, pretend all of these things that Aziraphale was throwing at him? All of these lies, just to make sure he doesn’t get hung? So he can be free?

Crowley had a hard time convincing himself to be on board, but he began rehearsing immediately. His clock was ticking.

Two days later, Aziraphale met with Crowley inside the courthouse. His hands were cuffed until Aziraphale scolded the guards, shouting at them for their mistreatment of such a fragile man. Crowley thanked him quietly, rubbing his wrists. He glanced up and took in how dapper Aziraphale looked. A dark blue pinstripe suit and matching tie hidden slightly by a heavy black wool coat. Crowley looked himself over and chewed his lip. His own suit was hardly impressive, but it was what Aziraphale wanted him to wear. Black suit and tie, white shirt and pocket square. Simple, ordinary, unimpressive. His short bob was half tied back slightly to reveal his face and amber eyes… Which  _ were _ impressive.

“Alright, Anthony. When they ask you where you came from, you say…?”

“Ah… Right. London.”

“Right. And your parents?”

“Poor immigrants. Sadly, they died in a car accident- a drunk driver!”

“Yes, very good Dove… And you…?”

“Married my highschool sweetheart, Gabriel. He took care of me through the tragedy.”

“Mm yes… And how old were you then?”

“Don’t remember.”

“Perfect. You’re going to be perfect, Dove.” Aziraphale smiled softly, a hand brushing a strand of hair from his face. Crowley felt his cheeks heat up red and he swallowed hard, nodding.

“Thank you. Aziraphale- um… What if they ask about the gun?”

“Hm? Oh… The gun. You leave that to me, Dove.”

Crowley nodded, caught up in what his heart was doing in his chest. It was some sort of flying acrobatics- that touch on his cheek lit a fire in him he didn’t even know existed any longer. It was concerning… It was- it was nice though.

They walked out of the courthouse and onto the steps where a podium stood, and Aziraphale’s assistant waited next to it. Suddenly there were photographers- pictures upon pictures, shouts and hollering of questions and need for attention. Suddenly a woman stepped forward with thick glasses, hair pulled back, and a long black dress.

“Mr. Fell.” She said, an eyebrow raising.

“Ah, Ms. Device. Lovely to see you again. Still seeing that… Oh what was his name…”

“Yes… Engaged actually. Newton Pulsifer.”

“Ah, congratulations are in order then. Betty, make sure Ms. Device gets a wonderful gift from my private collection.” He winked. Ms. Device shook her head, smiling. Prohibition… What a joke. She then took out her pen and paper.

“Let’s get right to it then, shall we?”

Crowley’s brain flexed into his imagination… He was a puppet, sitting on Aziraphale’s lap as he did all the talking for him. Which… Crowley would admit, he hardly found himself being able to speak up. He didn’t want to talk about that day. Talking about it made it real, made it hurt. It was better Aziraphale did the talking.

“Who were these two men that were shot? What was their relationship to you, Anthony? What does your husband have to say about this? Did you tell anyone? Did you fight back?”

Then… They asked about the gun. Anthony finally spoke up, even though he wasn’t supposed to. Even though Aziraphale told him not to.

“The gun… Gabriel keeps it in the house to protect me, says it gives weight to moral arguments. So… Gabriel had it out and was cleaning it so he left it on the table. So they grabbed for it at the same time as I did- I had to defend myself. We both reached for it at the same time!”

Aziraphale glanced to him and back to the reporters, mouth open slightly. That’s not what they talked about, but… Sometimes the truth was needed.

There was a silence as Ms. Device spoke up, “Understandable… Comprehensible… Not a bit reprehensible. How are you feeling now?”

Anthony felt a hand brush against his and he grasped it, trembling slightly. “Frightened…” He choked out, “Very frightened.”

“What’s your statement, Anthony?”

“I…” He paused and looked down a moment, Aziraphale’s thumb brushing over his knuckles gently. He felt tears come to his eyes, “I miss Gabriel… I’d give my life to see him again and…”

“And we’re out of time. No more questions please, thank you!” Aziraphale looked into amber eyes and smiled warmly. He quickly pulled his hand back and looped it around Crowley’s back. He handed Crowley a handkerchief, turning them back around toward the photographers. They paused for a photo or two, before they went back inside away from the crowd. Crowley stepped away and wiped his face. 

“Did I do alright?” Crowley sniffed, holding the handkerchief out. Aziraphale reached to take it and paused, watching those golden eyes watering. There was a real pain hidden behind them, and it dug into Aziraphale’s soul. He gently clasped Crowley’s hand between both of his.

“You were wonderful, Dove. You were so good for me. Keep it… I’ve got more.”

Crowley shivered, mostly from the touch but the praise… “I really don’t need-”

“Anthony, I insist.” Aziraphale smiled. Crowley frowned slightly at that smile. It was different. Crowley couldn’t put his finger on it… Something had just changed with Aziraphale.

“Are you alright?”

Aziraphale was silent. His eyes were focused where their hands were still touching, in a trance.

“Aziraphale?”

“Hm?” Blue eyes snapped up to gold finally, his hands dropping. “Yeah… Time to go, Dove.” He nodded sideways as the guards stepped closer to take Crowley back, “See you tomorrow.”

He left without another word, without another look. Crowley felt his heart drop into his chest as the guards took him back to the car. The touching, staring, now hand holding. He thought he’d feel dirty, used and untouchable. He thought Aziraphale would look down on him, pity and think how foolish he was to allow those men to take advantage of him. He didn’t. He was… He was kind and gentle, he didn’t push Crowley into uncomfortable situations… Fuck, his skin was so soft and warm.

Crowley had never been more confused in his life… 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments always welcome.
> 
> Find me on IG as @mrsmoosie35


	6. Cellophane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small interlude with Gabriel and his boss... And some explanation of his backstory.

Gabriel sat at his desk at A.Z.Fell and Associates. He was in his hard chair, looking at his paperwork, as he did every day. Just another replaceable clerk. He had his same old suit, with his same old shoes and shirt and tie… He was drowning. He realized though… No one even paid him any mind. He hadn’t heard from Crowley- he wasn’t even allowed to go and see him for some reason. Mr. Fell sent him a memo saying he was off limits due to the trial. He would be too much of a distraction and Crowley needed space. Gabriel agreed though- he may be too busy to see him, or maybe since he was in with murderers it was too risky. Gabriel knew he’d be too scared to go anyway. 

He went about his day job. He went about his night job. It was the same- day in and day out, for as long as he could. He started moving money aside for Crowley, for his defense, to give him money for things inside prison. He saw Crowley’s face in the paper the morning after the press conference standing next to Mr. Fell, a tear in his eye with the headline, “We Both Reached for the Gun!”

Gabriel felt his heart drop slightly and sighed, touching the paper. He didn’t even  _ know _ there had been a press conference! He didn’t know what was going on with this case- He was paying Mr. Fell to help and he had no idea how he was helping… 

Gabriel got into work that next day and went straight to Mr. Fell’s office, demanding to see him. He held his hat in front of him, having used all his courage to demand to see him. Betty, the secretary, buzzed and let Mr. Fell know he was there waiting. Several minutes passed before the doors opened to reveal a slightly disheveled looking man, forcing a smile. His hair was unruly, and his eyes should have been held open with toothpicks. His suit jacket was missing, he wore only his button down shirt and an unbuttoned waistcoat. It was very unprofessional and unlike Aziraphale to look like this. He was angry having to take this meeting on such short notice, but would never show it.

He’d been up all night wrestling with himself, and subduing the monster within him… That gorgeous red headed, golden eyed monster. He dropped all his other cases to lower level lawyers that morning, simply so he could make more room for Crowley. In his schedule, but mainly in his mind. There was something just so… magnetic about him. It was completely against all of his morals as a lawyer to feel this way about a client. Crowley was unintentionally tempting Aziraphale to care too deeply for his well being. 

“Ah. Mr…”

“Archer. Gabriel Archer?”

“Right. Sorry, please do come in.”

They walked in, Aziraphale shutting the door behind him and walking to his desk, “Did you see the paper this morning?”

“Yes… yes about that. I need to see him, he said so in the story! Why can’t I schedule a visit?”

“Visit? Well, dear boy, we’re up to our ears right now getting ready for Crowley’s court date. It seems it’s being pushed to- Today is Friday… my, we’re starting on Monday now. This Monday, it seems they want to get him tried rather quickly.”

“What? Why wouldn’t you tell me that? I’m… I’m his husband I should know!”

Aziraphale raised a tired eyebrow. He reached for his decanter and filled his tea cup with whisky. “See… If you read this interview in its entirety Mr. Archer, you’d notice some things were left out. It does mention you, that he misses you and wants to see you. But it also mentions you had a pistol in your home to give weight to… moral arguments? Can you elaborate on that for me, Gabriel?”

Gabriel felt his face turn red, embarrassed and angry at the same time, “I bought it to protect-“

“Mm… I’m quite tired so I’ll get to my point. You had an illegal firearm in your home that you had bought from the mob. Are you  _ really _ as Godly as you say you are? I feel that there is much more to you than meets the eye.” Aziraphale smirked, “Perhaps you have an  _ in _ with said Mob?”

“An- an in? You’re joking. I’ve never in my life met any mobsters!”

“Funny. When I spoke with my private investigator he had some very different stories to share…” Aziraphale took out a folder, throwing it across his desk toward Gabriel. “Seen speaking with known drug runners outside of Capone’s shop… Seen emptying the trunk of illegal alcohol, of illegal firearms, of illegal opioids. Seen handing money to Capone himself? Hm. How  _ is _ Al doing lately?”

“Fuck!” Gabriel snapped, throwing the folder back across the desk, “I’ve had everyone fooled. Gabriel Archer, should have been a priest, or a cardinal… How long have you had a tail on me?” 

“Since you started working here. I keep tabs on all my employees hm… extracurricular activities.” Aziraphale sipped his whisky and wrinkled his nose, setting the cup down.

“What do you want?” Gabriel ran a hand through his greasy black hair.

Aziraphale smiled. Gabriel was a low level clerk making barely any money only a few days a week. Somehow he rented out a very large three bedroom apartment in a nice neighborhood for his husband. It was all a front. He was deep in the mob.

“See… I won’t tell. If  _ you _ don’t tell.” Aziraphale placed his palms flat on his desk, leaning forward. “I want to make a deal.”

“What kind of deal?”

“You file for divorce- I’ll push the papers through. Then get as far away from Chicago as you can. I hear New Jersey is looking for help- Atlantic City might be your calling?”

Gabriel sat quietly and looked out the window behind Aziraphale, sighing.

“Alright… What do you need me to do?”

“Mm… I need that retainer… Maybe a bit of hush money is in order? Call it $10,000 total between the two.”

“Fine… Who do you know in Jersey?”

Aziraphale pulled open another drawer and found a folder, preset for this conversation. He slid them across the desk, looking up into violet eyes. They were such an odd color, Aziraphale had never noticed before. No one ever noticed Gabriel though. It’s why he was so good at his job.

“I’ll get you a phone number. Sign here.”

“What’s this?”

“Divorce papers. You will sign before leaving this office. You are being fired due to- shall we call it irreconcilable difference?”

Gabriel started signing through the stack without even reading. He easily flipped through, minutes passing. He didn’t read a word, only signed where he knew to. When he made it to the last page he paused only a moment. It was allowing Aziraphale to file the documents on his behalf, and allowing himself to not be present during the proceedings. Any material possessions he had, every dollar he had would go to Crowley. He signed without a second thought. He owed him at least that much.

While Gabriel worked, Aziraphale grabbed a key from his pocket and unlocked his bottom desk drawer. He pulled out a piece of wood in the back to reveal a compartment. There was a small, leather bound book that he took out, brushing the dust off. It’d been quite a while since he’d needed it… His book of underground resources. He flipped through and tore out a page, sliding it across the desk.

“Atlantic City. Mr. Johnson owes me a favor. I’ll give him a call now, but part of this deal is you call before you go as well. Introduce yourself and all that.” Aziraphale smiled and took the signed papers back, stuffing them carelessly in a separate drawer.

“So that’s it? Can I see Crowley before I go?”

“Absolutely not. Get me that money before the end of the day.” Aziraphale snapped. He looked to his phone and started to dial, picking up the receiver and sitting back. Gabriel sat patiently and watched him, quietly, confused. Was that it? Was that the end?

“Ah yes, this is A.Z. Fell calling for Mr. N. Johnson? Oh, thank you. Yes, I’ll hold dear.” Aziraphale stood up and walked with his phone to the window, looking out over the city.

“Uh… Guess I’ll be going…” Gabriel muttered. He stood up and started slowly toward the door, “Give Crowley my best…” 

Aziraphale didn’t pay him any mind.

“I’ll see you in an hour with the money…”

Aziraphale turned away and stared out the window.

He was invisible, he was completely transparent.

Cellophane… Mr. Cellophane! Should have been his name-  _ Mister _ Cellophane. Not always a bad thing. For the mob yes- no one would even care about some wanna be priest spewing religious talk everywhere, he was invisible to the police. But to Aziraphale… He looked right through him, saw what he was really about. Now… He was leaving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments always welcome.
> 
> Find me on IG as @mrsmoosie35


	7. I Can’t Do It Alone

Saturday arrived and Crowley paced in his cell. His hands scratched at his arms, rubbed at his neck, anything to stay busy. His anxiety had come to a new high. He didn’t want to talk to the other prisoners- he didn’t want to hear their stories and listen to them talk about their lawyers and their cases. He was worried about his own case- he was so scared… What scared him slightly more was that he wanted Aziraphale. He wanted to see him, he wanted his hand to touch him again. It was soothing and comfortable… He was soft. Thinking about Aziraphale both soothed his nerves and set them on fire. It was a paradox...

A clipping from a newspaper hung above his bed. The picture showed himself and Aziraphale at the podium. Crowley remembered that moment- Aziraphale had taken his hand to calm him down. He realized that day Aziraphale wasn’t a jerk… He wasn’t the same as these other men.

“Agh… Shit.” Crowley whined out, scratching at his arms again. His whole body itched- it was his nerves on edge. He growled and grabbed a blanket, screaming into it. Too much… So much was happening and he didn’t have an out. He was lost in his own mind. He needed help...He really, really needed Aziraphale.

“Hey doll... you alright in there?”

Crowley looked to the cell door and frowned. He really didn’t want to talk… The man named Michael stood there, smoking a cigarette… He looked more like a she though… Crowley settled on a they- right in the middle where no one would be offended. Michael’s eyelids were painted a beautiful golden color, with dark eyeliner and mascara surrounding them. A faint hint of rouge on their cheeks… Their clothing was a little more effeminate than Crowley’s, hugging their form. Crowley didn’t mind at all- They looked good. Maybe too good. Crowley was almost jealous of their makeup skills. He decided he needed some tips before Monday...

“You… You’re Michael?”

“Mm yes. How’s the case going? Better than old Sandalphon, I bet.”

Crowley tilted his head and his eyebrows furrowed, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh… He’ll be um… How do I put this delicately?” Michael put a finger to their throat in a slicing motion, “Tomorrow…”

Crowley’s throat constricted, “You mean...”

“Mm… Lost his last appeal. Seems the devil’s finally coming for him. But chin up, doll. You’ve got Mr. Fell, and he  _ usually _ wins his cases… ”

“He… is he your…?”

“Me? Oh no, doll. I could never afford that man. Too much of a pretty boy for me, anyway. I hear sometimes he gets a little too friendly with his clients. Takes a little extra from them after the case is won, if you know what I mean.” They gave a sort of wink before walking away.

Crowley stiffened. Friendly… Extra… 

He looked at the paper on his wall and shivered. His breath caught. Suddenly his throat felt like a python was wrapped around it. He couldn’t breathe, he was gasping for air. A hand came to grab at his chest as the cell started to spin and he tried to sob for help, sweat lining his brow…

He collapsed, right on the cell floor.

**

When he next awoke, he was in a soft bed. His vision was blurry, but he could make out a blonde man looking down at him. It had to be Aziraphale. When he came fully to he saw him. Aziraphale was holding his hand and looking concerned, checking his pocket watch every so often for the time, more likely to check his heart rate.

“Azira…?” Crowley managed out, wincing slightly. His golden eyes fluttered open, looking up into deep blues.

“Anthony… Oh Anthony thank goodness, are you alright? You took quite a fall, they say you may have knocked your head on the floor.”

Crowley hummed in agreement, wincing as he shifted slightly. That would explain the pain radiating in his head and through every nerve ending. His neck hurt, straight into his temples. Searing, scorching pain… 

“Everything hurts…” Crowley whispered out. Aziraphale nodded and looked back to the door. It was then, Crowley realized, he wasn’t in his cell. This seemed like… Like a hospital. It was white, bright, and clean. The smell in the air even, instead of body odor and garbage… It was fresh and heavenly, like a bouquet of roses on a first date…

Crowley was beginning to think he did hit his head, and maybe harder than he thought.

“Let me call for the doctor, Dove… I’ve postponed your court date until you are feeling better, at least a week.” Aziraphale stroked through his hair, standing and walking to the door. Crowley tried to sit up and reach for him but stopped. His head spun again, and he let out a soft cry.

“Azira… Don’t leave me.” He murmured out, laying back down. He closed his eyes, breathing heavily. He was nauseated, dizzy from moving so much. His head… Oh his  _ head _ .

“Anthony please. Lay down, don’t move.” Azira frowned, he opened the door and hollered into the hall for a doctor, waiting patiently until one came sprinting to the door. 

“Yes! Yes, Mr. Fell is Mr. Crowley awake?”

“Yes, he certainly is, and is in quite a formidable amount of pain. If you could be so kind to take care of him? Whatever it is you people do?”

Crowley felt his breathing speed up. He was in a cold sweat, he was moaning and holding his stomach. It hurt… His stomach… His head… He wanted-

He rolled over and found a waste basket under his head thankfully and vomited. It wasn’t until a moment later he realized… Aziraphale was kneeling on the ground and holding the waste basket for him. So caring… 

“How long… Have you been here....?”

“Mm… Since I found you in your cell, unresponsive on the floor.” He said quietly, putting the basket down. He swept a hand through Crowley’s hair, getting it out of his face and off his forehead, “You’re soaked in sweat, Dove…” He whispered, taking a towel from the small table next to his bed and wiping his forehead. It was soft, gentle on his face. Crowley leaned into the touch with a sigh, his eyes closing. 

“Mr. Fell, I just need to perform a quick examination on Mr. Crowley… Can I please have you step outside for patient privacy purposes?”

“No…” Crowley’s eyes widened, looking up to Aziraphale, “No, please, I want him… I want him to stay.  _ Please _ …”

Aziraphale cupped Crowley’s cheeks, staring into his eyes, “Crowley, relax, please. I’ll be right here, is that’s alright with you, doctor?”

The doctor shrugged. Aziraphale gave Crowley a smile and stood back. He found a chair to sit close by as the doctor started to work. He checked Crowley’s temperature, his head and neck movement, before moving onto other mundane tasks. Aziraphale kept their eyes locked through the entire exam. Crowley knew there was something… Something just so different and deep about him. Something exciting, passionate and kind. Something Crowley never had in his life. He felt exposed as the doctor continued to examine him but… He maybe liked it. He… maybe liked Aziraphale watching him. 

Crowley’s cheeks turned slightly pink as the doctor Moved to check his heart beat, opening the back of his dressing robe to expose his back. It slid down his arms around his elbows, showing off his scrawny chest but Crowley gathered it to hide his more… private parts. He noticed Aziraphale’s eyes dart over the newly exposed skin and back up to meet his own. Crowley turned from pink to red as Aziraphale smirked, winking.

This was  _ no time  _ for flirting- Especially with his lawyer! He- oh he forgot he was still  _ married _ ! What about fuddy, duddy Gabe. With his silly suits and obsession with religion and… 

“Can you drop the robe for me please?” The doctor asked. Crowley’s eyes widened in fear, staring at Aziraphale. His heart was racing. He was… He was going to be naked... 

“That’s enough, doctor. He didn’t get hurt down there, it was his head.” Aziraphale interrupted, seeing the struggle taking place. 

“But Mr. Fell the examination-”

“Is over. What is your conclusion, doctor?” He snapped. Aziraphale looked to Crowley and tilted his head slightly with a smile, “You can get dressed now, Dove.”

Crowley thanked whatever God it was that Gabriel prayed to, but mouthed a ‘Thank you’ to Aziraphale as he pulled the dressing robe back on. He shyly looked down as he tied it around himself, keeping his eyes hidden away from Aziraphale. He was in trouble… No. His  _ heart  _ was in so much trouble.

“Well Mr. Crowley your head is fine. It doesn’t actually seem that you hit it on the floor at all, and more fell on your shoulder which you’ll notice is sore. Your headache and vomiting can be explained by an incredibly large uptick in stressors which… Having been following your story in the papers, is understandable. It’s similar to female hysteria where the woman-”

“That’s more than enough doctor, thank you.”

“But I didn’t-”

“Female hysteria is a horrible excuse for real medical and mental examination of human beings. You should be ashamed of yourself. Thank you, doctor. You are excused.” Aziraphale frowned, hand fisting.

“Mr. Fell! This is most unusual!”

“How many malpractice suits are you facing right now? I can add another if you like?”

“Good day, Mr. Fell!” The doctor snapped, grabbing his clip board and leaving. Aziraphale sighed and closed his eyes.

“Americans. Think they know everything.”

“Aziraphale… Someone is being hung tomorrow… On my cell block.”

“That would explain your stress.” Aziraphale said, sitting on the bed next to Crowley, “How are you feeling now that you’ve been up a bit?”

“Better…” Crowley looked down at his hands, clasped together in his lap, “I’m scared, Aziraphale… I- what if… what happens if we  _ lose _ ?”

Aziraphale looked at Crowley’s hands as well and reached over, putting one of his own over them. Crowley finally looked up to see him and felt his cheeks deepen in color again.

“Dove...” Aziraphale said softly, looking up into gold, “Losing is not an option…” 

Aziraphale leaned in slowly and swallowed hard, his other hand coming up to brush against a rose tinted cheek. Crowley felt his heart racing, his palms sweating, his breath speeding up. Aziraphale’s nose brushed against his and Crowley let out a whimper, biting his lip.

“Aziraphale…” He leaned away slightly, head turning, “Don’t… Don’t do this… I can’...”

“Why…?” Aziraphale murmured. He dropped his hand, sitting back. He waited for Crowley to collect his thoughts, patient and understanding. He knew it wasn’t fair, he knew he shouldn’t abuse his position with Crowley given what he’d been through. He honestly didn’t know if he could help how he felt any longer. There was a pit in his stomach, breaking up and running through his veins. It was trying to tell him to hold Crowley, comfort him, stroke that beautiful hair and make him purr. Innocent, loving and comforting touches… But not without permission. Not without Crowley allowing it.

Crowley was silent. There was a right answer. It just hurt.

“I want to trust you… I do, I’m just… I can’t yet.” Crowley managed to get out, eyes cast down at his hands again. Aziraphale let out a small hum, understanding.

“Trust is very important, Dove… I should apologize. I shouldn’t have approached you like that, it was very unprofessional of me. You’re just… I don’t know what it is about you.”

“What was it about the others that you’ve represented and slept with?”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened- as did Crowley’s. His hands slapped over his mouth. He wasn’t even sure that he’d just said that, but he regretted it immediately. He was embarrassed at the words that just left his lips. Tears of shame came right up into his eyes.

“Aziraphale no, I shouldn’t-”

“The  _ others _ ? What- What’s that supposed to mean? I’ve  _ never _ been intimate with a client, Anthony. Not before, during, or after a case. Not for money, not for any reason.” Aziraphale frowned, “Why would you say that? I’m… I can’t believe you would think so  _ low _ of me.”

“Michael… Michael said it… They said you take extra after the case and I thought…”

Aziraphale hummed and stood up, brushing himself off slightly, “Here’s the thing about Michael. They have tried to throw themselves at me so many times I’ve given up counting. I walk by their cell and simply tell them to fuck off now. It’s no surprise that they are spreading rumors. I’ve declined to take their case well due to such a fact, no matter what.” 

“Azira…”

“You really think so low of me, Anthony? Like I’d… I’d do  _ that _ to you?  _ Never _ in my life would I stoop to that level, those  _ thugs _ … The day you told me what they did to you I stayed home two days after, sick to my stomach. Thursday, after the press conference I stayed up all night. I was in my office, looking for any way I can get you out of this without a court date. Friday… Friday morning I resigned myself from all my other cases but yours, Anthony. You are the center of my  _ world _ right now…” Aziraphale paused. His hands fisted at his sides, looking for control. Crowley felt tears slide down his cheeks. He choked out a sob.

“Azira please… Please don’t-”

“Anthony… I need to know, do you really want me to stay? After everything I just told you, after all we’ve been through the past month, you think I’d really take advantage of you like that?”

“No! No please… Azira please don’t… Please don’t leave...” Crowley panicked, dropping to the ground between his feet and grabbing his pant legs. Tears came to his eyes, and he was sobbing, his head resting on his knee. The thought of losing him, of Sandalphon’s fate coming the next day. He broke. The thought of being alone, of losing his case and being brought to the gallows…. His breath came in gasps, the world was collapsing in on him again. His nerves were on fire, flying through his arms. His body shook violently in fear as he sobbed.

“Shit, Anthony…” Aziraphale crumbled down to the floor before him, holding his face, “Shit, I shouldn’t- That was far too much, I’m so sorry… I’m not leaving you, I could never. Shit… I shouldn’t have been so harsh on you, Dove…” Aziraphale felt his own eyes burn with tears and he blinked them away. Stay strong. Be strong for him… “Arms up, Dove. Deep breaths, open that airway- good boy…”

Crowley found his breathing coming easier as their eyes locked together. Crowley melted forward into him, finding himself relaxing with his head into Aziraphale’s chest as they sat on the cold floor. Aziraphale paid no mind, holding him close and curling around him.

“Azira… I’m so sorry… Please don’t leave me, I can’t do this alone…”

“Shh… Relax, Dove, I’m here.” Aziraphale whispered, stroking his hair and holding him close, “I’m not leaving you. I promise, you’ll never be in this alone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments always welcome.
> 
> Find me on IG as @mrsmoosie35


	8. Razzle Dazzle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m about as close to a law degree as my dog so... Just work with me here. Assume that this is how it works, I haven’t watched Boston Legal or Law and Order in a hot minute. 🤣 
> 
> Crowley gets quite a few questions answered... The trial begins!
> 
> ...and now I will be singing this song all day. 🙄

The next day, Sandalphon was brought to the gallows and hung for beheading his wife while his neighbor held her down. To his death, he maintained his innocence which, he was in fact, quite innocent indeed. It was discovered much later that the neighbor did not speak English. The hired translator was continuously mistaking their words causing his conviction and, in the end, his death.

Aziraphale stayed with Crowley until he was released from the hospital Monday. It was mainly for his comfort, being in an unknown place was hard, but with prison guards. He’d heard stories, and Aziraphale could confirm those were true. Guards taking advantage of their status in the prisons, picking off inmates they disliked or some they liked a bit too much, even.

He came back to a very somber cell block Monday, the day after the hanging. No one spoke to him, no one looked at him. He was used to being so alone most of the time unless it was rehearsals. It’s not like he had real friends. He sat back in his cell and lay down on his lumpy pillow, curled into a ball. Aziraphale thankfully managed to get them extra time. They had one week to perfect their act.

Crowley gave plenty of thought to what happened with Aziraphale in the hospital. They were there for two days. After their argument, there was plenty of sleeping. Crowley let him stroke his hair as he slept which was progress. They talked, more comfortable than their first ‘get to you know’ talk. Aziraphale swore up and down the last actual relationship he’d had was in England. Crowley snorted and said ‘me too’, causing them both to laugh. Aziraphale melted. It was so wonderful to hear his laughter filling the room. It was comfortable- it helped Crowley really come out of his shell and get to know Aziraphale on a more personal level. More like… a friend.

Tuesday they started to work. Aziraphale came to the visitation room and they started off small- the story, get the story straight, don’t screw it up. It wasn’t hard for Crowley, as it wasn’t far off from the truth at all.

Wednesday they started a mock trial. Aziraphale explained where the jury would sit, the judge, the defense, the persecutor… Who everyone was, and what they were likely to ask.

Thursday they hammered away at questions. Friday the same- What will he say, where will he look, what will his  _ eyebrows _ do?

Saturday… Aziraphale brought a folder of paperwork in.

“What is that?”

“Ah… I wanted to tell you this sooner, Dove. See… Gabriel filed for divorce.”

“Oh…” Crowley said quietly. He stared at the paper like it was going to jump up and bite him, then looked up at Aziraphale, “When?”

“Day before you fainted. He came to me and… Well he signed and left, moving to Jersey.”

“It was the gun… Wasn’t it?”

Aziraphale’s eyes snapped open wide, “Come again?”

Crowley smiled and laughed slightly, “See… I’m sure he told you. He’s been a runner for the mob for a while. Some low level idiot but it helps to pay the bills, keeps me in that nice apartment. That plus what you were paying him, we were doing pretty good. He started getting paranoid though so… He bought that gun, thinking it would protect us if they came to get him.”

“So he told me.” Aziraphale nodded.

“Went to Atlantic City then?”

“You’re smarter than I thought, Dove.” Aziraphale smiled slightly, reaching and placing a hand on Crowley’s. Crowley looked down at it and up to Aziraphale.

“Aziraphale... Why... Why do you call me that? Dove...” Crowley asked finally. He didn’t move his hand- he didn’t  _ want  _ to. They had argued a week ago… But something since awoke within Crowley. His eyes were open, like Aziraphale held all the answers to all his questions. He was the solution to all his problems.

“Call… Call you Dove? I- um…” Aziraphale found himself at a loss for words, flustered, and flushed. He sucked his bottom lip under his teeth. Crowley raised an eyebrow.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you at a loss for words…” 

“Hush, now…” Aziraphale batted his hand slightly, “It’s just… Well there’s the biblical sense of a dove, being the one that finds the olive branch for Noah, it represents peace after the flood but… Dove… Anthony we really shouldn’t be-”

Crowley stood up and gripped his hand, pulling Aziraphale to stand. He pulled him close and looked up through long eyelashes. His chest ready to explode.

“Please… tell me.”

“It’s just what… What I feel I should call you… Someone that has stolen my heart.”

Crowley felt his heart fall into his stomach and he leaned in, brushing their lips together softly. He trembled, hand coming up to cup Aziraphale’s cheek softly. His eyes closed, and he could feel it- that  _ spark _ he’d been missing all his life. He could imagine it- an entire three ring circus could be happening around them… with fireworks and a trapeze artist and men on stilts… Acrobats doing flips on horses. The two of them, standing in the middle of the chaos, barely touching but sharing the lightest kiss… 

It’d been barely a week since they were so close to this Crowley thought he could taste it, and he stopped and backed off. It was inappropriate, it was wrong, it was against everything the two had stood for but… Fuck, he had to. He needed to touch, and feel. He’d been so numb for so long. Whatever he was feeling towards Aziraphale… Whatever Aziraphale felt towards him… He wanted that. He  _ longed _ for it. It was a need, an urge, a desperate attempt to be happy. Oh and he was though, in that single moment, in that quiet room together… It was bliss. Choirs sang and Angels played trumpets. 

Crowley took a half step back, head dipping down, “Sorry… I shouldn’t have...”

“Anthony…” Aziraphale closed his eyes, searching for the words. They were there- filed away somewhere in his mind, but all smudged together. He decided to babble out what he could string together. “I won’t… Anthony we… I thought…  _ Shit _ . Can we… again? If… If you’re alright with it now… Just… You’re soft...” Aziraphale glanced up and smiled as he found golden eyes. Crowley nodded and leaned in, allowing Aziraphale to take the lead and kiss him. It was  _ so  _ soft, warm and wet… It was like liquid chocolate, sweet and  _ everything _ . Aziraphale slid a hand onto his shoulder to steady them, keeping it chaste. He stood at his word. He would  _ never _ take advantage of a client, especially someone recovering from multiple attacks. Kissing… Was certainly taking some advantage, yes… Aziraphale was at a loss. The damage was done, but it was worth every second.

“Azira…”

“I like when you call me that…” Aziraphale smiled, brushing his nose against Crowley’s softly before pulling back, “It’s… It’s sweet. Like you.”

Crowley felt his cheeks redden and he looked down shyly, “We really should get back to work…”

Aziraphale watched him just a moment and smiled softly, “Mm… work yes. Where were we now?”

Crowley moved back to his seat, “These divorce papers… Where do I sign?

The paperwork was reviewed, signed, and filed away. Crowley asked no questions, only signed as he was told to. He wanted it finalized, put through as quickly as possible. Aziraphale placed it unceremoniously in his briefcase before they continued preparing for the trial. Crowley was very receptive, and a fast learner. He made it that much easier.

As quick as a blink, the week was gone. Monday came and they were standing in their waiting room at the courthouse before Crowley’s trial began. The room was silent, with only the ticking of the clock to accompany them. Aziraphale was dressed in his best suit- the brown pinstripe one Crowley first met him in. Crowley was in a more expensive, very nice black suit that Aziraphale had procured for him during the week. He wore a black shirt, white tie and pocket square that matched. Simple, not flashy, not looking for attention. 

Crowley  _ was _ , in fact, looking for attention as they waited. He had been holding Aziraphale’s shoulders and hiding into his neck, reminding himself how to breath for quite some time. In, out… In, out… Aziraphale was leaning against the lone table in the room, rubbing Crowley’s arms.

“Azira… Azira fuck, I’m scared…” Crowley whimpered. Aziraphale pulled him back slightly.

“Dove… it’s going to be alright. Just think of this all as… As a big circus. You’ve been to the circus, right? As a kid?”

Crowley nodded, feeling tears come into his eyes.

“Just think, we walk in… can you imagine it? The audience is watching… they’re so captivated by you. The prosecutor would be a clown of course… I’ll be the ringmaster and you’re my… My main attraction.” Aziraphale paused and cupped his cheeks, thumbs brushing tears away, “My little Dove…”

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Crowley’s lips, then his forehead. Crowley melted and touched Aziraphale’s hands on his cheek, tilting into one and kissing it gently.

“Give them the- oh what do the Americans say… ah. Give them the old razzle dazzle…” Aziraphale smiled. Crowley froze and looked to him, pushing his hands off his face and laughing.

“Razzle dazzle… really?”

“Yes! At least I think that’s what they say.” Aziraphale cleared his throat, a finger waving as he tried to sing, “Give them an act with lots of flash in it, and the reaction will be passionate.”

“Oh dear, Azira, please stick to being a lawyer.” Crowley smirked, which earned him a soft tap on the nose, “I'm afraid that’s not an American thing. Who told you that?”

“I went and saw a show in New York City a while back… I've been holding that gem for a long time so don’t ruin it.” Aziraphale smiled.

“I’m going to ruin it… that’s not a song. If it was… I think your singing ruined it.”

“Hush you, it’s a real song! I’ll even take you to see the show someday.”

Crowley swallowed and paused, silent. He turned away, hands fidgeting before him as he looked up at the clock. Someday… if he lives to see someday… If things work out between them after the trial is over...

“Someday…” Crowley sighed out. He jumped slightly as a knock came on the door and he stepped back into Aziraphale.

“Steady there…” Aziraphale cooed into his ear. His strong hands moved Crowley forward slightly and soothingly stroked down his arms. He called for the person to enter.

A young man stuck his head in, “I’m here to show you to the courtroom, Mr. Crowley, Mr. Fell.” He stammered out. Aziraphale nodded and took two steps to stand next to Crowley, hand coming up to squeeze his shoulder.

“Ready for the show?”

Crowley nodded firmly and tilted his chin up slightly. Confident. Just like walking on stage. Just… well more than twelve steps. His shoes clicked on the tile floor as they walked, Aziraphale dropping his hand and grabbing his briefcase. 

“I’m right behind you, Dove.” He whispered. Crowley gave a curt nod and walked. He counted as they moved… Just another dance to get to the courtroom. In front of the judge, the jury, the cameras. He was going to spill his soul, expose himself… But most of all, he was going to bring awareness to what was happening in this forsaken land they called Chicago. He was going to bring light to the darkness of these men that thought they could get away with something worse than murder- stealing the lives of men and women everywhere, their freedom, their identities. He was ready for himself, and for them. The doors opened like curtains before him and he looked up, not an emotion on his face. 

Showtime. He counted himself in. ...Five, six, seven, eight.

“Mr. Crowley, over here!”

“Mr. Crowley! Mr. Fell this way!”

“Mr. Crowley are you still innocent?”

“Mr. Fell tell us your plan for defense?”

The reporters started flashing their cameras as soon as those doors had opened and Crowley gave small, half smiles as he’d been told to. 

_ “Don’t smile like it's for a magazine cover,” Aziraphale had told him, “Smile like someone is offering you condolences… Like someone died.” _

They walked in and ignored the press in the booths, heading straight through the gate and to their side of the room. Aziraphale shook the Prosecutor’s hand, giving a nod before he joined Crowley, standing at his side.

“Azira…”

“Show time, Dove.” Azira looked at him and smiled, “Let give ‘em the razzle dazzle?”

Crowley nodded, nervous. He had no witty remarks to the expression this time- this was  _ real _ . The jury was here, and watching. All eyes were on  _ him _ . This was not the kind of show he was use to being center stage in...

“All rise. The honorable Judge Hart preceding…”

Aziraphale stayed standing by Crowley’s side. Crowley heard him give a small huff as the judge was announced. He couldn’t tell if he was glad or not about the choice.

“He’s a pushover.” Aziraphale leaned over, whispering. Crowley nodded and cupped his hands together in front of him, looking politely at the man. He seemed like it: old, thick glasses, probably didn’t know what the gavel was for anymore…

“Please sit… You back there, the press… You better keep it down. If I remember you’re there, I’ll kick you out faster than your cameras can snap a picture.”

Crowley’s imagination started in on him… He could hear the band starting up in the pit, the dancers getting their tap shoes on, the audience chattering. His show was starting… The curtain was rising.

Aziraphale leaned back and allowed the prosecution to begin. Their act was shabby. They started with an alleged witness that saw the two men coming in and out of the apartment that day. She was Crowley’s downstairs neighbor. They’d never talked… Yet here she was. Nearly 200 years old, on the witness stand.

“I saw them all the time! There was one that would come in and out at lunch time- they made such a racket! Then when that second fella started, boy it was terrible. I nearly called the cops!”

“Thank you, Ma’am.” The prosecutor nodded. He turned and sat back down. Aziraphale nodded in somewhat thanks and stood up, walking to the stand. 

His dance began.

“Excuse me Ma’am, now why  _ didn’t  _ you call the police?”

“Well I- I’m not that nosey neighbor!”

“But you saw the two gentleman?”

“Yes, and heard them too!”

Aziraphale gave a glance over to the jury. Nosey indeed.

“What did they look like?”

“Um… one was tall and brown haired, skinny man… one was short and blonde, one of those pretty boys… both had that slicked back hair.”

“I see…” Aziraphale walked to the jury and winked at them, before turning and holding up two fingers, “If you could… How many fingers am I holding up?”

“What’s that now?”

Aziraphale smirked, then shouted, “How many fingers am I holding up??”

“Um…” The old woman paused and squinted, frowning hard, “See my glasses broke a bit ago and I can’t see…”

“Ah… Now when did that happen?”

“Oh, about a month or so ago.”

Aziraphale gave a look to the jury, “No further questions, your honor.”

Witness after witness approached the stand, and Aziraphale discredited every one. He  _ was _ very good… Until…

“Your honor…” The prosecutor started, “I’d like to call Mr. Gabriel Archer to the stand.” 

Aziraphale gasped and looked back to the door as Gabriel, in a grey suit, purple tie, and fedora, strolled in. He looked to Crowley who was frozen, trembling in his chair.

“It’s alright, Dove… Stay with me.” Aziraphale whispered, “Trust me?”

Crowley paused the performance and felt his heart drop. Trust him… 

Crowley nodded, swallowing, shaking. 

The prosecutor asked Gabriel about his job and the hours he worked. Simple, ‘get to know you’ questions. Then he began on the deep dive.

“Now, Mr. Archer… Have you noticed any changes around the household lately? Any… strange behaviors?”

“No… Not particularly strange. Crowley’s been very busy with this show he has going on down the club. Besides that… I came home one night after work and he’d… in the bathroom…” Gabriel made a slicing motion to his wrists.

“Let the record show Mr. Archer is making a motion as he is um… Cutting himself, your honor?” Mr. Harrison said, looking to the judge for clarification.

“Continue.” The judge nodded. Crowley shrank slightly in his seat.

“Why do you suppose he did that?”

“Objection.” Aziraphale snapped.

“Do you think he was unhappy in the household?”

“Objection!” Aziraphale repeated.

“Do you think Mr. Crowley  _ consented _ during these meetings with the deceased?”

“ _ Objection!”  _ This time, Aziraphale slammed his fist down and was on his feet, face red in anger. Mr. Harrison turned back and smirked, looking to Mr. Archer.

“Mm, sustained. Move along, please.” The judge ruled.

Crowley felt better about that… Only very, very slightly.

“No further questions, your honor.” Mr. Harrison said as he finished. He went and took his seat, only pausing slightly to nod toward Crowley as he walked by. Aziraphale paid no mind, watching him take his seat again. He stood upright and turned to Crowley, giving a nod.

“My turn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments always welcome.
> 
> Find me on IG as @mrsmoosie35


	9. A Tap Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Talk of previous attack- rape, beating. Mentions of suicide attempt. High anxiety and mention of guns.
> 
> Only 2 chapters to go!! Wait is that right? Maybe it’s 3. 👀
> 
> Here we have many lose ends tied up- Aziraphale takes on Gabriel. 
> 
> Again, I’m as close to a law degree as... alright I’m not at all so sue me. Wait don’t, I know what that one is.
> 
> And that’s the end of my daily rambles...

Crowley watched Aziraphale approach the stand where Gabriel sat, his imagination taking over again…

_ Ladies and Gentleman… A Tap Dance.  _

He imagined Aziraphale took his jacket off, leaving it on his chair. He unbuttoned his shirt’s cuffs, rolling them up to his elbows. He took his time, still wearing his waistcoat and bowtie. Then he began.

He took eight steps- Crowley counted the clacks on the floor of his tap shoes. Aziraphale made it to center stage. A spotlight shone on Gabriel and Aziraphale… the room was silent.

“Tell me, Mr. Archer, did Crowley start acting… distant?”

“What does that mean?”

“Well when you tried to have  _ relations _ with him… Marital relations?”

“We um…” Gabriel blushed furiously, “We haven’t had… We never did.”

Aziraphale’s feet stomped on the ground, shuffling off to the side of the stage toward the jury in his dance.

“You’ve never had sexual intercourse with your husband?”

Gabriel sighed and looked up, “No.”

“Care to elaborate as to…  _ why _ ?”

“Objection… Relevance?” Mr. Harrison dawled out.

“Get to your point, Mr. Fell.” The judge asked.

“We never had sex because… We… We were never legally married.”

Aziraphale’s feet tapped right across the floor, heels digging in, toes tapping. 

Crowley gasped from his seat, “What?! You- You  _ bastard! _ ” The entire audience gasped in suspense.

Aziraphale shot him a look and frowned, causing Crowley to shrink back into his seat.

“Never… married? Now I  _ do  _ think an elaboration is in order?”

“I never filed the paperwork because… I took a job.”

“With… Mr. Al Capone?”

More gasps came from the audience. The plot thickened…

“Yes.” Gabriel sighed, “I wanted to give Crowley the best life I could, that’s why I never forced him to take my name. If we weren’t married… He could protect himself better, I thought. He could move away and they’d try looking for him as Mr. Archer but… I’m the only Mr. Archer.

“So you lied to the mob… about your ‘husband’... to protect… Mr. Crowley here.”

“I only ever called him Crowley, sir… Crowley Archer… No one ever found out.”

“Mm… I see. Please, continue.” Aziraphale glanced back to Crowley, who was confused out of his mind. Aziraphale had a few tricks up his sleeve still… He just had to  _ trust _ him.

“Right… So I was… I was working on the side helping with deliveries of flowers from a shop he owns, taking the cars for gas, stuff like that. I was working for you too, Mr. Fell… I had to pay the bills, I had to help and protect him. So I had… I had bought a gun.”

“Yes… The infamous gun. Do go on…”

In his mind, Crowley watched Aziraphale loosen his bowtie. Step toe hee, step toe heel, shuffle ball-change…

“I bought it from… from one of the guys down by the shop, didn’t know his name, never seen him before but he said it was a good one. So I bought it. So the night before I had it out and was cleaning it. Crowley was there watching me… Said he really hated having it in the house, made him scared.”

“Did he say  _ why _ ?”

“No… Never told me why… So I cleaned it, but left it out on the table.”

“Didn’t put it away, hm?”

“No… No I should have I thought if I left it out he’d get used to it.”

“Get used to a gun?”

“Yeah… Stupid… I’m sorry, Crowley… I really am. I should have known better, I should have been a better man, I should have  _ listened  _ to you.”

Crowley looked away in a huff and closed his eyes. He was mad as hell.

“I’m leaving though… I’ll be out of your life. Going to New Jersey, got a new job running a shop there.”

“Your honor… really?” Mr. Harrison rolled his eyes, standing and waving his arms around.

“Your honor, I’d like to introduce into evidence Mr. Crowley’s personal diary.” Aziraphale said. 

Crowley’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. Gabriel snapped to attention. Mr. Harrison shouted objections; he wasn’t aware, this is ridiculous…

“I sent you a memo just this morning about it, Mr. Harrison. Do try to keep up, old boy.” Aziraphale smirked. He went to his briefcase and rummaged for it. Crowley leaned over, furious.

“What are you  _ doing?!” _

“Saving your life, Dove. I told you, _ trust _ me.” Aziraphale whispered. He plucked a book out and with some theatrics said, “Ah ha! Now. Mr. Crowley, this  _ is _ yours correct?”

“Ye- Yes…” Crowley trembled.

“Thank you. Now… Mr. Archer, you have been most helpful. I was hoping you could read a passage to me.”

Crowley gasped and stood, “Objection!” Aziraphale turned, and frowned angrily. He turned to the judge.

“Can I have a moment to discuss with my client, your honor?” Aziraphale asked, polite as pie.

“I wish you would… Make it snappy.”

Aziraphale nodded thanks and walked to Crowley and began whispering harshly.

“Dove… You  _ have _ to trust me. I will never do anything to hurt you, please…”

“Azira I can’t… I’ve never trusted anyone in my life, how do I know you’re not going to ruin me? Leave me for dead or…”

“I swear to you, Anthony… I swear on everything, Dove, I’d never hurt you.”

“Mr. Fell! We are waiting.” The judge grumbled.

“Trust me… Please, Dove.” Aziraphale touched his shoulder and gave a small squeeze before turning around, “Thank you, your honor. Now Mr. Archer, could you read an entry for me?”

“Um… Sure I guess?”

“Thank you ever so much.” Aziraphale smiled and handed him the book. Crowley’s heart dropped into his stomach and he felt nauseous, his cheeks paled, he started to feel faint. “The red tab, if you’d be so kind.”

Gabriel turned the pages and found the red tab, looking at it, then he started.

_ I have never been more petrified in my entire life. He hit me again, on the back, at least it’ll be easy to hide. He really has it out for me, I think he’s jealous- _

“I never hit him!” Gabriel snapped.

“Not everything is about you, Mr. Archer. If you’d please continue.”

_ Harvey came back today… He brought a friend. It was Rich… I thought we were friends but they did things to me… They both did. When they were done they both hit me- kicked me in the side actually. I’m sure there will be bruises again. I have a show in two days- I have to get it together… I have nowhere to go. I’m going to try- _

Gabriel stopped reading and tears fell down his eyes. He covered his face with a hand and his body shook, breath ragged. Crowley closed his eyes and looked at his hands hiding in his lap. He  _ did _ write this… It was a few days before the murder. It was the day he tried to end it himself, he’d hit rock bottom.

“Mr. Archer…”

_ I’m going to try… to end it myself tonight. Goodbye life… Goodbye happiness… Hello loneliness… I hope I’m going to die… _

There was a harsh silence across the courtroom as all eyes lay on Crowley, watching his reaction. His eyes were closed, brows furrowed together. He had his arms crossed in front of his stomach. Anything he could do to hide away from this moment- from the pain he was feeling, the new low he was feeling. Trust Aziraphale… He kept telling himself but it was getting harder to tell himself when his entire life was being put out there.

“Mr. Crowley tried to kill himself that night, correct?”

“Yes.” Gabriel said quietly, “I… I stopped the bleeding, I bandaged his wrists.”

“ _ You _ knew you weren’t married. You didn’t force him to sexual intercourse… but you’re human. You lived together, breathed the same air. You ate the same food, and wanted to live together still.”

“Yes… Yes I wanted him to live- I really did love him just… not  _ that _ way. We were never husbands. We were… We were more than best friends even. Crowley… Crowley I’m so sorry, I feel so responsible. I could have stopped it… I could have protected you… I’m so sorry…” Gabriel choked out a sob and wiped his face, “I really do love you.”

Crowley looked up, eyes wide and glossy. They were… They  _ were  _ friends, after all they’d been through together. They may have romantically grown apart, but Gabe was a  _ friend _ . Crowley smiled and wiped his eyes, staring at Gabriel.

“I love you too…” He managed a smile, choking out a small sob. Aziraphale crossed a leg over and held his hands out to the side as he finished, as if to say ‘Ta Da’. There was a rousing applause from the ‘audience’ watching this dance- and Aziraphale took a bow.

“No further questions, your honor.” He finished, taking his seat back.

“Mr. Archer you are dismissed, thank you.” The judge nodded. Gabriel stood and walked to where Crowley sat, reaching to take his hand and give it a squeeze.

“Good luck, Crowley… Mr. Fell has my number if you ever need to talk, I’m here.”

“Thank you… Gabe I should have told you… You were always the only friend I had.” Crowley smiled slightly, squeezing his hand back. He watched his not-husband shake Aziraphale’s hand before he walked out of the courtroom, and his life. They never did talk. Gabriel never moved to New Jersey - He ended up in Witness Protection after giving detailed information about the shop he was at. He was somewhere, happy, possibly winning prizes for his fish.

Crowley’s imagination finished- Aziraphale was still in his full suit, still handsome as he ever was. But something was different as he sat and smiled softly at Crowley. Crowley saw him with trust… There were many articles in that diary about hating Gabriel and wanting to kill him personally- amongst other indecent writings… but he chose  _ that _ one. That one that maybe saved him.

“Your honor I’d like to call Mr. Anthony J. Crowley to the stand.” Mr. Harrison called out.

Crowley stiffened and caught calm, blue eyes. Aziraphale nodded and touched his shoulder again, whispering to him, “You’re fine, Dove. I’m right here.”

He trusted in this… and trusted him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AGH there ARE 3 more chapters. Silly me. 
> 
> Also can you imagine Aziraphale tap dancing? It’s a long shot but... Eh, close to the Gavotte I guess? (No.)
> 
> Kudos and comments always welcome.
> 
> Find me on IG as @mrsmoosie35


	10. Are You Sorry?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Mentions of rape, lots of anxiety, talk of suicide.
> 
> Humans. Thank you for reading! 1 more chapter and then we get to the good stuff, I promise. It’s steamy, and I keep rereading it because well... *waggle waggle* Idk what that means but you’ll see come Tuesday. If I can wait. 😱
> 
> Thank you all for continuing to deal with my crazy plot/mind/rambles/etc. My monster will have another chapter tomorrow, and I have another thing in the works that I’m... not sure. We’ll see. 
> 
> I’d love your prompts and thoughts! I don't bite if you’d like to talk. Obviously I’m great at it. Not in person though but I’ll type away... 
> 
> Shutting up now. Enjoy!

Crowley stepped up to the witness box, trembling slightly and put his hand on the bible. He swore his business, before sitting down properly. He snuck a hand into his pocket and pulled out a white square of fabric. He held his hands in his lap holding it- Aziraphale’s handkerchief, from the press conference.

“Mr. Crowley.” Mr. Harrison began, “You killed two men.”

“Yes, sir…”

“Why are you not guilty then?”

“Harvey had been assaulting me- he’d been raping me for weeks… I told Rich but… They knew each other and started coming together that week. I got so low… I was so scared, I didn’t want to live, I couldn’t tell Gabriel!”

“Why not?”

“I thought he was my husband! I couldn’t tell him two men were… were barging into his house and raping me… They threatened me- if I told him, they’d kill us both. So I stayed quiet.”

“So then what happened?”

“They kept coming… I wasn’t allowed to lock the door so they could come right in and… and take what they wanted…” Crowley felt a tear roll down his cheek. He wiped it with Aziraphale’s handkerchief and sniffed, “I hated myself… I wanted to die.”

“You tried…?”

“Yes, sir… I tried two days before the end. I couldn’t do it too well, see I was scared. Gabriel found me though, wrapped my wrists. He even bought me nice leather cuffs to wear to hide the cuts. Gabriel was… was genuinely a really nice guy. Even if we weren’t married, I guess.” Crowley added, looking to the jury who nodded.

“So what happened the day before?”

“I had a show the night before. I came home and Gabe was cleaning his gun. I told him I hated it, that I was afraid of it but he didn’t listen, left it out all night. I was mostly worried they’d come and use it to kill us both.”

“Continue?”

“So… So the next day Gabe left for work and they came- Harvey and Rich. But when they walked in they saw the gun on the table- and I saw them eyeing it… So we fought.”

“You… fought?”

“Yes, sir. We both reached for it and fought over it but I got my finger on the trigger, sir. I killed… I killed Harvey… Then Rich lunged at me and tried to take it away and I shot him too. I panicked sir- I’ve never even held a gun, I’ve certainly never seen a dead body, I don’t remember what happened next.”

“You had a show?”

“Yes, sir… I don’t remember what happened until I was backstage, waiting to go on. I didn’t want Gabriel getting in trouble so I hid it in my dressing room… I had to protect myself, I had to protect my- well, my husband.” Crowley hid his face into his handkerchief, breath shuddering, sobbing. It did hurt to talk about- it was horrible. Talking about it and reviewing what to say with Aziraphale was so different, it was mainly for him to get comfortable talking about what happened. He had to understand it wasn’t his fault- no one  _ asks  _ to be assaulted. No- he didn’t have to kill them… But self defense… Aziraphale said it was a perfectly logical defense.

“No further questions, your honor. The prosecution rests.” Mr. Harrison stated, sitting down.

Aziraphale stood and looked to Crowley, smiling warmly.

“Mr. Crowley… How are you feeling now?”

“Confused… But less frightened I suppose.”

“Are you sorry?”

“For… for what?”

“Killing those men?”

Crowley paused and watched blue eyes getting closer, getting bigger. Sorry that he killed two men that were attacking, assaulting, killing him from the inside out?

“I wouldn’t do it again… I’d never kill anyone, I swear… I’d rather had put them in prison. I was so afraid for our lives though. And anyone else they might attack.”

“Hm…” Aziraphale hummed, walking to the jury. He leaned both hands against the bar before him and paused to think, “Mr. Crowley… Putting this all… behind you. What are you going to do now? You’re single, yes? This is- indeed, speculative, your honor but… What will you do?”

The judge leaned down and looked at Crowley, “You can answer that, Mr. Crowley, if you can.”

“I- oh… I hadn’t thought of it…” Crowley frowned, looking down at his hands and rubbing them together, “I want to help others find their voice- others that may have gone through this. I know… It’s hard to speak of, but… If others need to talk, or need help getting away from… from violence… I don’t know where to start but… Talking about it is a start.”

“Will you stay in Chicago?”

“I’m not sure…” Crowley murmured. He felt this line of questioning was getting a bit personal, digging a bit too deep into uncharted territory.

“Thank you, Mr. Crowley. The defense rests, your honor.”

There was a murmur in the pews behind Aziraphale as he sat down. The judge dismissed Crowley from the stand, allowing him to sit back down next to Aziraphale. He sat, looking almost shyly up into big blue eyes. Aziraphale offered a smile- the best he could do at the time.

“Jury, you have your information. You are allowed to deliberate as long as possible to determine the verdict of Anthony J. Crowley. Officers, you can bring Mr. Crowley and Mr. Fell back to their waiting room as the Jury deliberates.

“Thank you, your honor.” Aziraphale stood, nodding his head in almost a bow. Crowley stood as well and felt his body shaking with anxiety.

They followed the officer back through the courthouse to the room where they had been waiting. Crowley stepped in, Aziraphale quickly behind him.

“Thank you, sir.” Aziraphale smiled, closing the door and turning the lock. As soon as Azirphale turned around, he was attacked, arms hard around him in a tight squeeze, Crowley sobbing into him, handkerchief in one hand.

“Azira… Azira I can’t… What’s going to happen…”

“Anthony… Anthony please listen, Dove. You were  _ amazing _ . You did everything we spoke about, everything you said was perfect.”

“The diary- why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well… sometimes a secret is needed. It wasn’t a bad one, was it?”

“No… It… It was actually good… I trust you, I can trust you I could feel it.”

Aziraphale smiled, a hand stroking over his cheek softly, “Good…”

He leaned in and placed a chaste kiss to those lips, another to his forehead where he held them a moment, holding Crowley close. He let out a soft sigh and buried his face into that red hair. minutes passed, they stood together holding each other. The tension around them was thick, but between them gone.

“Whatever happens, Dove… I’m here, I’ll be here for you. I’ll fight tooth and nail for you to be by my side.” He murmured.

“Azira…”

“I-“

Three sharp knocks came at the door.

“Excuse me, Mr. Fell? They’re back… Asking for you to come back!”

“Already?!”

“Azira…? What does that mean?”

Crowley grabbed onto his shoulders tightly, Aziraphale pulled him impossibly closer, pressing their foreheads together.

“Dove, listen… Whatever happens, be smart about this, yes? No… No kissing, no hugging.” Aziraphale warned, “We can’t- we could both get into huge trouble. Handshake only, yes? I believe in you… I know you’ll be just fine.”

Crowley nodded, squeezing his handkerchief with a whimper. They left the room and started to walk. Aziraphale’s hands fidgeting with the cloth, like a dead man walking… Petrified. Once they made it back into the courtroom, the room hushed. Everyone stared at Crowley as he walked in, feet clacking on the tile as he took his place at the table in the front. He was pale, sweating, dreading the next several moments. Aziraphale stood next to him, confidently looking to the judge.

An officer opened a door to let the jury back in. All thirteen stepped in and sat down, the head juror standing and looking to the judge.

“Have you reached a verdict?” The judge asked.

“Unanimously.” He said, nodding. Crowley let out a small whimper, watching him.

“Gentlemen of the jury… how do you find the defendant?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suspense!
> 
> Kudos and comments always welcome.
> 
> Find me on IG/tumblr as @mrsmoosie35


	11. Nowadays

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our conclusion! ☺️

Crowley sat on a wooden bench, facing a black grand piano in a rather large and lavish living room. His hair was tied up, having grown out quite beautiful over the past five years. Shelves lined the walls, overflowing with books, encyclopedias, literature of all kinds. Plants sat in the large floor to ceiling windows, absorbing every piece of daylight they could muster. Large plush sofas, brown leather sat on the other side of the room around a wooden table. Several cups of tea and coffee lay, now cold. Crowley’s fingers were dancing across the keys. A small brown haired boy in glasses sat next to him, looking up at the sheet music.

“It’s good. Isn’t it grand? Isn’t it great? Isn’t it swell? Isn’t it fun… Isn’t it? Nowadays…”

“Very good!” Crowley smiled, lightening up on the keys as he played, “Finish it off now.”

“And that’s good… Isn’t it grand? Isn’t it great? Isn’t it swell? Isn’t it fun… But nothing stays... in fifty years or so… it’s gonna change, you know… But oh, it’s heaven…”

They sang together, Crowley leaning over, “Nowadaaaays…”

“Very good, Charles!”

There came clapping from the doorway behind them and they both turned. Aziraphale stood with a woman- quickly identified as Charles’ mother as the little boy went running to her.

“Thank you Anthony!” He shouted.

Crowley turned on the bench, “Little scamp, It’s Mr. Fell to you! But you are always welcome.”

“I can’t call you that, there’s two of you!” He stuck his tongue out. His mother gave him a swat on the behind for that and he giggled. Crowley waved slightly as Aziraphale helped them to walk out. Mr. Fell… Isn’t  _ that _ swell… Crowley smiled dreamily and closed the music book, running his fingertips over the front cover. It was from a musical they had seen years ago in New York City, where Aziraphale had promptly embarrassed them both by standing up and shouting “Ah ha!” when the words ‘Razzle Dazzle’ were said, and even sung. Aziraphale introduced Crowley to the director, to which he promptly apologized for his outburst. 

Crowley never thought he’d be here, living life like this… Or even just  _ living _ .

But that’s what happened, isn’t it.

“Not Guilty.” The juror had declared. Crowley had nearly fainted and grabbed Aziraphale’s hand, squeezing it tightly, shaking it hard as the photographers in the back started snapping pictures. After the excitement of the verdict had settled, Crowley found himself alone in the courtroom with Aziraphale. He was looking at the door they had all run out of, thankful it was over. Aziraphale had sat back down and watched Crowley standing, looking around. He changed, had a new sense of freedom.

The press had run out to see the newest murderer in town. They were coming into the courthouse. Some heir to a pineapple fortune allegedly shot his husband, not to mention the man and woman in his bed. Triple homicide, front page news.

They left Chicago not soon enough after the trial. Aziraphale sold his law firm for a very, very pretty penny, then packed what was important to him. Mainly his books, and his possessions he kept at home. Everything else was sold, or given to an auction house to fetch the highest bidder. Crowley ducked out of the rent on what was once his and Gabriel’s apartment. He packed up what little he wanted and left the rest to be picked over by the same auction house- if there was anything of value at all. He had Aziraphale, he really didn’t need anything else. They hopped across the country and aboard the next ship. They sailed across the Atlantic, ready to start over.

They settled in England, Tadfield specifically where they lived in a large manor, alone, and basically retired. It was quiet, a peaceful village outside of the hustle and bustle of London. Ivy crawled up the sides of the home, giving it charm and character. When they first saw it they knew this is where they wanted to be, to live their lives uninterrupted and in peace. A walled in garden, large green house and even a  _ garden room _ \- entirely made of windows, where they would simply sit and enjoy one another’s company. It was everything they ever needed, and together they made that manor into a beautiful, loving home. Crowley found quite a few children lived in the village, and gave piano and voice lessons several days a week to keep busy. When he wasn’t with them, he would be outside tending to the gardens and singing softly to himself. He didn’t know he was being watched most of the time, Aziraphale adored sipping his coffee and listening to his angelic voice as he worked.

It was  _ heaven _ . Their own personal Eden.

Crowley also began a small not for profit in London, where anyone could walk in. It was for any victims of abuse and violence at the hands of another- no matter who that other was. Crowley had scoured the land for doctors and therapists that he could trust, Aziraphale helped tremendously. Crowley would sit with them and talk, or give advice- whatever they were comfortable with. He often told his story, and kept newspaper clippings from Chicago lining his office walls. He supported these survivors, gave them a place to sleep if they had to hide. Any money earned went back to the victims he looked after for anything they needed. Some started calling him a Guardian Angel.

Aziraphale helped him the best he could. He took cases at no charge of abuse and violence toward a partner. The money he got from selling his law firm and other worldly possessions in Chicago set the two up nicely monetarily. Aziraphale promised Crowley he’d only work for money if they were completely destitute. They stayed away from the limelight, and only to one another. Aziraphale kept mainly to his books, and cared for his Dove. They were married a year after arriving, an official and very private ceremony, with  _ properly  _ filed paperwork. It really was heaven, those five years.

“Anthony? Anthony…?”

Crowley snapped from his fantasy and glanced back. He smiled lovingly at Aziraphale, who was standing in the doorway to the parlor, “Sorry… Still takes some getting used to, I suppose.”

Aziraphale crossed the room and cupped his cheeks, kissing him softly, “How was your day?”

“Mm… Better now… I’ve just now decided to take tomorrow off.” Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s neck as he slipped his hands to Crowley’s waist. 

“I think I’m quite fond of that idea.”

“Azira I wanted to talk to you… I think I’m ready.” Crowley shyly looked up into baby blues, “For us… to...” His cheeks pinked, hands fiddling with the back of Aziraphale’s shirt.

Aziraphale lost his words and swallowed, eyebrows raising, “Oh?”

Crowley nodded, “I… I think I’d like to. If you’d like to of course?”

“Oh…” Aziraphale processed a moment and felt his own cheeks pink, “Oh! Oh… Dove… Are you sure? You know I’d never… Only when you’re… Are you sure?”

Crowley pressed their foreheads together, “Azira, love… You’ve been so supportive and patient with me… I can’t honestly thank you enough. You… You saved me, made me able to trust again, to love again. I owe you my life.”

“I’ve told you, Dove… I’d do anything for you. I’d wait six-thousand years to be with you if that’s what you needed. I’m not here for… for that, it was never what this was about.” 

Crowley brushed their noses together and kissed his husband softly, a hand lacing into blonde curls, “Azira we’re both standing here because of you… I love you.”

“I love you too, Dove…” Aziraphale murmured. He leaned in, kissing him sweetly. 

Everything was swell… Nowadays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments always welcome.
> 
> Find me on IG/tumblr as @mrsmoosie35


	12. Hot Honey Rag (NSFW Bonus!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus! I have to write smut, it’s just... It has to happen. So here we finally fill that requirement.
> 
> Thank you ALL for reading. I’m so sad to post this and be done for now! 😭 I have things in the work but always will take prompts. Short NSFW may just be my specialty? 👀 Maybe not lol.
> 
> End rant, for the last time. For now.

Sunday came. Crowley had been preparing dinner. He was nervous, hands trembling as he cooked. Roast lamb, carrots, roast potatoes, and Yorkshire pudding for desert. The cook was usually in, but tonight was the night and it  _ had  _ to be special. Crowley gave him the night off.

Which in retrospect, was a terrible idea. He burnt the roast, nearly set the cottage on fire with the potatoes, and the pudding… Ms. Beaton would be most upset. Her Household Management Guide was close to being trashed. The carrots were the only thing edible, but that was because they hadn’t been cooked yet.

“Anthony? Dove, do you need help?”

“Ah! No!” Crowley answered, yelping suddenly and pulling his hand close to himself, swearing.

“Are you sure…? Did you burn yourself?!”

“Azira…” Crowley looked to the doorway sadly, biting his lip, “I need help…” his lip pouted out. Aziraphale chuckled and walked closer to him, taking his hand. He checked the burn, stroking over his palm.

“What do you need?”

“Well I’ve ruined dinner… Don’t suppose you’d like jam and scones instead? Chef left them this afternoon when he delivered everything… Probably figured I’d ruin it all...”

“Oh, Dove…” Aziraphale smiled lovingly and cupped his cheeks, kissing him softly, “Don’t you worry about dinner. I promise you we won’t starve.”

“I have two carrots…?”

“Then cook the carrots?”

Crowley sighed, “You’re no help…”

Two carrots sounded well… as it did. Not enough, boring, and they’d probably wind up on fire somehow. Crowley looked up into deep blue eyes and melted. Dinner was ruined. It was burnt, mush, completely unsalvageable. But this… Aziraphale… Crowley swallowed, slipping his arms around his neck.

“Azira… I… I don’t know that I’m hungry anymore.” Crowley flushed deeply, fingers playing over the nape of his neck. Aziraphale shivered and nuzzled his nose into Crowley’s, placing a chaste kiss to his lips. 

“I don’t know that I am either, Dove…” He pushed Crowley against the counter gently and held his waist, a leg slipping between Crowley’s. Crowley let out a soft moan and pulled him closer into a deep kiss. It was heavenly, it was hot and wet and  _ wonderful _ . He felt Aziraphale’s hands running up his sides, underneath his tee shirt and over his stomach.

Sure, they  _ had  _ fooled around a bit. Neither could wait five years without touching one another, they were both too overwhelmingly in love. Aziraphale had shown Crowley how  _ very _ talented he was with his tongue. Crowley, in turn, had learned from the best and used some of Aziraphale’s own tricks on him. Crowley just wasn’t ready for well…  _ sex _ … Actual, penetrative sex. Aziraphale had offered on numerous occasions to allow Crowley to be on top, and it was always his final decision. Crowley always declined. He just wasn’t mentally prepared.

This day, however, was the five year anniversary of winning his case. So it seemed special enough an occasion to try. He was still nervous about being taken for the first time since well… he was forced to. But this was Aziraphale. He  _ loved _ him, trusted him, and Aziraphale would give him  _ anything _ his heart desired. 

“Come along, Dove…” Aziraphale whispered against his lips, voice deep with lust, “Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable.”

Crowley let out a whimper, finding he was rutting against Aziraphale’s thigh softly, needily. He felt Aziraphale’s erection pressed against his hip, hard and needy. Crowley nodded and kissed him again… and again. He didn’t want to leave his arms for a single moment.

Aziraphale chuckled and ran his hands down to Crowley’s thighs, hiking his legs up and around his waist. Crowley gave a small yelp and laughed, nimble fingers starting to undo his bowtie and shirt as best as he could.

“What was that song you were singing that night I first saw you at the club?” Aziraphale asked as he walked, hands slipping down to grab Crowley’s ass, Crowley let out a moan and thrust his hips forward into Aziraphale’s plush stomach.

“All That Jazz… I wrote it a long time ago. We never performed it.”

“Mm… Wanna sing it to me?”

“Someday…”

“Fair enough… Save your voice, Dove, I’ll have you singing plenty in a minute anyways.” Aziraphale winked and deposited him gently on the bed, a hand running up his thigh.

“Azira…” 

“Mm?”

“Don’t hold back.” Crowley sat up slightly, grabbing the strands of his bowtie and pulling him close, “I don’t like when you hold back. I’m not made of glass, you won’t break me.”

“Are you sure? You let me know if I’m too much, Dove… I won’t be the reason-”

“Azira. Shut up… And fuck me already.” Crowley pulled him down, spreading his legs on either side of Aziraphale’s body. Aziraphale swallowed and kissed him roughly, pushing Crowley back down on the bed.

“You have such a filthy mouth…”

“You’re one to talk, husband.” Crowley smirked. It was comfortable, this banter. He loved drawing that blush from Aziraphale’s cheeks, that beast inside of him with the silver tongue.

“Mm… Well your husband wishes you were wearing something a little less than a tee shirt, trousers and socks. Mm... I can just imagine… I’d love to get you into some sexy lingerie…”

Crowley shivered and tilted his head back. He knew what was coming… Aziraphale didn’t know what he was in for, though. He pushed Crowley’s shirt up and off, exposing that thin, muscular torso and strong arms. He attacked immediately, licking and kissing over it, nipping where he could, hand palming over Crowley’s cock.

“Ah… Azira…!” Crowley cried out, wrapping his legs around him and bucking his waist up into the touch. Aziraphale smirked, teeth grazing a nipple before licking and blowing on it.

“Lets see what else we can find, hm?” He asked, leaning back and reaching for the button of his trousers. Crowley sat up quickly, his hands grabbing Aziraphale’s. He kissed him, biting at Aziraphale’s bottom lip.

“Allow me?” He asked. Aziraphale nodded and moved to let Crowley stand next to the bed. He shucked his shirt off as Crowley stood and turned away. Crowley felt his heart beating a little faster, a little nervous at what he was about to do… He undid his belt and trousers, taking a deep breath. He pulled them down excruciatingly slowly. He bent over nearly in half, stepping out of his socks and pants. 

He wore black, back seamed, lace top, thigh high stockings. They were being held up by a lace garter belt, and matching panties that cupped his ass just perfectly. Crowley was shocked his cock was still covered by the small piece of cloth between his legs, but he couldn’t argue when Aziraphale gasped and stared. 

“Oh… Fuck.” Crowley heard him swear, heard the hitch in his breath.

He kept his legs straight, pert ass thrust out slightly. Crowley’s hands held his ankles before he started to stand. Those hands stroked up his calves, his thighs, his sides, eventually into his gorgeously long red hair. He let his forearms rest on top of his head and he looked over his shoulder coquettishly. He bat his long eyelashes, pursed his kiss swollen red lips into a smirk. He didn’t turn, only started swaying his ass slightly, singing.

“C’mon babe… Why don’t we paint the town… And all that Jazz…”

“Anthony...” Aziraphale groaned. He felt his own cock harden somehow further. This was going to take a  _ lot _ of willpower, and a  _ lot _ of self discipline.

Crowley let out a small chuckle. He turned around and slunk down to his knees in front of Aziraphale. His mouth watered, staring at his cock and he looked up into those blue eyes, eyebrows raising suggestively. Aziraphale’s chest was heaving.

“I’m gonna rouge my knees… and roll my stockings down… And all that Jazz.” His hands ran up Aziraphale’s thighs, slipping past his cock to unbutton his trousers. He stood up and pushed Aziraphale to lay down. Crowley finished undressing him, nearly ripping his pants off and throwing them to the ground. He crawled over him, straddling soft hips so their erections brushed with a groan. Crowley sat up and started to grind down into Aziraphale. His hands ran up his own thighs, over his naked torso, gathering up his long red hair.

“C’mon babe… we’re gonna brush the sky… you bet your lah… lucky Lindy never fah- flew so ha- ah… high...” 

“Shit… Anthony don’t stop…” Aziraphale moaned loudly, head tilting back as he grabbed Crowley’s waist. He started rocking up as they rut their cocks together, Crowley bouncing on his lap against him.

“Cause in the- ha... ha… stratosphere… How could- ha… shit… he lend- an ear t- to... ah! _ Fuck!”  _ Crowley cried out, hands slapping onto Aziraphale’s chest and nails digging into him, “I can’t- I’m gonna… I’m gonna… Azira  _ pleeease…” _

“Finish…!”

“All… ha… that…  _ ha! _ Ja- jazz!” Crowley sobbed, nearly drawing blood from Aziraphale’s chest as he came, grinding hard against his naked cock. Tears fell down his cheeks in happiness, his head thrown back in pure pleasure. Aziraphale held his hips tighter, slowing him down and nearly finishing himself. He was panting. He didn’t want to finish so soon… he wanted to wait for Crowley. It was a damn miracle he didn’t finish after  _ that  _ performance. Crowley fell forward onto him, panting, gasping for air. 

“Alright, Dove?”

“How… How was that… for a surprise…” Crowley managed out, glancing up and smiling. He was sweating, skin glistening in the little light they had.

Aziraphale laughed and hugged him tightly. He rolled to lay him down on a pillow, kissing him, hands stroking over those stocking clad thighs.

“That… was the single sexiest thing I have  _ ever  _ seen in my life.” Aziraphale murmured, looking up to Crowley with a smile. Crowley was still catching his breath so he nodded, smiling shyly, “As… delicious as you look, Dove… let’s get this off, hm? Though… I’m  _ very _ tempted to keep these stockings on if you’d like that...”

“Yes… Yes please.” Crowley swallowed, leaning up to touch Aziraphale’s hair, his shoulders, anything he could reach. Aziraphale started to work. He unbuttoned, unclasped, and slid the garter and panties down off of Crowley’s long legs. He was left with only stockings up to those thighs… Those strong thighs. Aziraphale felt his cock grow harder if possible.

“Doing alright, Dove?”

“Want more…” Crowley nodded, “I want you, Azira…”

“How do you want to do this?” Aziraphale asked, leaning up and stroking his cheek softly, “I’d suggest you being on top, to set the pace?”

“No.” Crowley shook his head, holding his cheeks and kissing him deeply. His legs came to wrap around Aziraphale’s waist, pulling him close, “Want you on top… I want to see you like this… I want to watch you fall apart like this. No holding back.”

“You know what to say if it’s too much, Anthony…”

Crowley shivered and nodded, “Showtime.” He whispered, “Not that I agree it’s a good word.” Aziraphale chuckled and kissed his nose.

He’d say that word, and that would end it all- he’d be held, pampered, shown that he was truly safe and secure with Aziraphale. They’d used it before, especially when fooling around. Crowley was uncomfortable with many things they were doing at first, especially after leaving Chicago. It was security for him, and it was trust in Aziraphale that he’d stop. It was what he needed.

“I’m going to get you ready then… With my fingers before we progress.”

Crowley nodded and lay back, loosening the grip his thighs had on Aziraphale. Aziraphale kissed him soundly and reached to his night table, finding the jar of lubrication and setting it aside. Crowley lay back and stretched to stroke through blonde hair. Trusting. Loving.

“I love you…” He whispered. Aziraphale smiled and kissed his lips gently, stroking over his cheek.

“I love you too, Dove…”

Fingers were lubricated before Aziraphale moved down his body, not stopping anywhere before they were between his legs. Crowley bent his legs up and felt the digits exploring, looking for him, teasing at the same time. Then… One found his entrance and rubbed against it, slowly pushing in. Aziraphale kept his eyes focused on Crowley- this was for him, all about him. One word, one look and he’d stop. He received nothing but pleasant grunts. Aziraphale kissed his knee softly, thrusting that finger in and out.

“So tight, dear… You feel so good…” He whispered against Crowley’s skin. That pulled a whine from Crowley’s throat. Aziraphale smirked as he thrust. He started to gently enter a second finger when Crowley groaned and arched, legs squeezing together slightly and his body tensing.

“Azira…!”

“Alright?” Aziraphale paused and stroked his thigh with his free hand, gently easing him and relaxing him back.

“Yes… Yes, more… Give me more, please…” Crowley gasped out. He leaned his head back, breath coming heavy. Aziraphale started to thrust two digits into him, spreading his fingers apart slightly and rotating them around. Crowley was so very  _ wrecked  _ already. It was glorious.

He continued his pace, his own cock hard and leaking. He removed his fingers just a moment, receiving a loud cry from Crowley at the loss.

“Azira…?”

“Three… we need more lube.”

“No… No more, just you… I’m ready.” Crowley panted out, “ _ Please!” _

Aziraphale groaned softly and pinched his cock at the base, eyes clenched shut. He had to be patient… He had to wait. He could do this, he could hold off. Crowley sat up, concerned, but paused to stare at him. They’d fooled around for so long but… it never occurred to him Aziraphale’s girth… and that thick cock was going to be inside of him… and he  _ was  _ tight.

“Sure you don’t want three?” Aziraphale checked in, hand leaving his cock as he searched into golden eyes. Crowley swallowed.

“Maybe… Maybe we should… I never realized… Azira you’re so  _ thick _ …”

Aziraphale’s cheeks turned red and he crawled back over Crowley’s body, kissing him softly. His fingers dipped into the jar before he brought three to Crowley’s entrance, still searching those golden eyes for pain and discomfort. He slowly pushed two back in easily before pulling out and adding the third. Aziraphale eased his fingers in and wiggled around slightly, getting them all the way in up to his knuckles.

“Ah!” Crowley cried out, bucking back against them, “Oh,  _ yes!”  _ He lifted his legs, hiking them up onto Aziraphale’s shoulders for leverage.

Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s cock before he started thrusting hard. His hand slapped up against Crowley’s ass as he fucked him quickly with his fingers. His own breath hitched, watching Crowley’s hands grabbing the pillow on either side of his head, mouth open and panting. His face twisted and contorted as he fucked him with his fingers and stroked him simultaneously. Those cries that came from his throat… 

“Ready… for me Dove…?” Aziraphale managed out, hand still slapping into him, “Fuck you’re… you’re so beautiful…”

“Oh  _ please... _ oh fuck  _ please!” _ Crowley begged. His voice was ragged, eyes clenched shut as he absorbed every hard shove into him. Aziraphale thought he could die happy just then, how absolutely destroyed he made him look… With his  _ fingers _ .

He slowed down, withdrawing his hands and settling Crowley’s body down. He received a sob, Crowley’s hands reaching and searching for him. Aziraphale chuckled and grabbed the lube, slathering it all over his own cock with a groan. He then lay between Crowley’s stocking clad thighs, hiking one up over his shoulder and the other wrapped around his waist.

“My Anthony…” He whispered. Crowley swallowed, catching his breath and took his face, pulling him close into a breathless kiss.

“I’m ready…” Crowley whispered with a nod. His long red hair was fanned around his head, body glistening with sweat… Aziraphale had never seen anything more beautiful. He reached to grab himself, positioning at Crowley’s entrance. He shifted, adjusted, and oh so slowly started to push into him. Thighs trembled, arms shook, Crowley’s knuckles were between his teeth, tears forming in his eyes.

“Darling… Anthony, do you want me to stop?”

“No… no please don’t stop, don’t you dare stop!” Crowley sobbed out between breaths. Aziraphale gave a soft smile and nodded, continuing to slowly push into his waiting body.

“So tight, Dove…” Aziraphale gasped out. He found himself unable to hold back and his hips snapped forward, burying himself fully. 

“Ah-!”

“Shit- Oh shit, Anthony are you-“

“Please… Oh please, don’t stop, please I need you, Azira...” Crowley babbled out. His hands flew to Aziraphale’s shoulders and nails dug into them, hips thrusting and bucking slightly. Aziraphale groaned and started to thrust slowly, his eyes captured by gold. They were panting, Crowley was sobbing in need, Aziraphale crying out softly as he sped up. 

“Anthony… I’m not… ha… I’m not gonna... last…” Aziraphale managed. His hand stroked up Crowley’s thigh, grabbing his ass as he thrust.

“Fah…! Fuck… Harder… Azira… Don’t- hold- back- Ha… ha… Fuck me! Ah- Fuck me… Faster!” Crowley nearly screamed out. His head tilted back and his nails scratched into Aziraphale deeply. Aziraphale grunted and thrust, fucking him with no resolve. He grabbed Crowley’s cock, jerking him in time with his movements until it was just too damn much.

“Ah- Anthony…!!” 

“Ha… Ah- Aziraphale…!!”

They came, moments apart. Aziraphale rocked into Crowley, panting, his forehead resting on his chest. Crowley felt his legs shaking against his will, and they flopped down with a groan. He held Aziraphale’s neck and stroked the hairs he found at the nape.

It was pure bliss. It was messy, sweaty, sticky and breathless. It was  _ art. _

“Dove… Dove are you… Are you alright?”

“Azira… This is the best I’ve been... in my entire life.” Crowley smiled, a few happy tears streaming down his cheeks, a small laugh leaving his chest, “I’m so… Fuck… I’m so gonna be sore tomorrow.”

Aziraphale laughed and moved his arms, laying next to Crowley and bringing him close. Crowley’s head rested on his shoulder and they kissed, lazy and messy… and so incredibly, passionately in love.

“I’ll be sure you stay in bed all day… I’ll bring you everything you would ever need… That was amazing, Anthony… You’re amazing. I’m so lucky to have you in my life…”

“Azira… You’re so damn swell.” Crowley breathed out, finally catching his breath.

Aziraphale let a small laugh leave his chest, holding him close, “I think you’re pretty swell yourself, Dove.”

And things  _ were  _ swell. For 50 years or so, nothing did change, ya know. 

It was grand.

And all that jazz.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading!
> 
> And YES I managed to get that scene in from Staged about the carrots. If you noticed, kudos to you. If not, kudos anyway I still haven’t watched it but it makes me giggle.
> 
> Kudos and comments always welcome.
> 
> Find me on IG/tumblr as @mrsmoosie35 I don’t bite! ☺️


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